Final Fantasy VIII Unofficial Novelization
by UnholyCrusada
Summary: An in-depth, full-length novelization/re-imagining of the beloved video game. Volume 1 (aka Disc 1) complete. Volume 2 in progress.
1. Foreword

foreword

 **FINAL FANTASY VIII UNOFFICIAL NOVELIZATION**

 _ **UPDATE 4/9/20**_

Man, I've been on a bit of a roll lately. Only four more chapters and an epilogue left until Volume II is complete! But, of course, anyone who knows what comes next in the game's story should expect that these next few are going to be some of the hardest to do justice.

That said, even though I've gotten the last three chapters out in pretty quick succession, don't expect the next one to be out as quickly. Aside from wanting to get this all-important scene as perfect as I can, I'll be a bit pre-occupied playing through the Final Fantasy VII Remake for the next... well, however long it takes me to get through it. I'm sure no one's going to hold my prioritization of that over writing this fan novelization against me, of course.

Anyway, I hope you like the newest chapter. The first scene in it is actually my personal favorite I've written thus far. Review, favorite and/or follow if you like what you're reading here.

 ** _UPDATE 3/24/20_**

I suppose if there's one bright side to the current Coronavirus pandemic, it's that I don't have very much else on my plate for the moment, leaving me plenty of free time to do more writing. This newest chapter, as a result, got done significantly quicker than the previous two before it. Perhaps I'll be able to keep that momentum going long enough to finish up Volume II soon. Just six more chapters and an epilogue to go!

Anyway, I hope everyone is staying healthy and safe during these troubled times. As usual, review, favorite and/or follow if you like what I do.

 _ **UPDATE 12/30/19**_

It's been a while since I've had the opportunity to really sit down and work on this. I spent the last month or so moving house, which took up pretty much all of my time, hence the relatively longer than usual wait for the next chapter. I hope you like it, though. As of this one, we've officially passed the halfway mark for Volume II.

I've also decided I'm not going to be doing the chapter-by-chapter podcast thing after all, simply because it would have been that much more work for me to juggle, and would have taken away even more time I could be spending on writing the actual novelization. I've realized it's probably a better policy to just stick to what I know, rather than trying to branch out into various sub-projects which barely anyone will care enough about to check out.

Regardless, thanks for the support, and I'll see you all in 2020.

 _ **UPDATE 9/17/19 - One Year Anniversary & Podcast Announcement**_

As of today, it's officially been a full year since I first started uploading this novelization here. After more than 200K words, just under 6K hits, 30+ favorites and followers, and a slew of immensely flattering reviews, I can honestly say things have come a long way from such minuscule beginnings. If you've been here from the start, then I'd just like to say, thank you so much for having stuck around for so long. And if you're brand new, then let me take the opportunity to personally say, welcome aboard.

And so, to commemorate this milestone, I've decided I'm going to start doing something a little special going forward, as a way of offering you all a little bit of bonus content while I continue to plug away at each new chapter. Namely, a 'behind-the-scenes' podcast series examining each chapter of the novelization in chronological order, detailing the general approach I've taken to adapt the game into written form, my reasoning behind many of the changes I've made to the story (both large and small), and also some occasional trivia fans of the game may or may not be aware of.

You can find a link to the podcast episodes here (just replace the two vertical lines with dots): drive|google|com/open?id=1wfzfNa9mAX_iP7qOkXRvYprgMOkedaBE

Episode 1 covers the prologue and first chapter of Volume I, both originally made public on this same day one year ago. Please excuse the less-than-professional grade audio quality; I do own a proper microphone, but don't have it with me at my current residence, and so had to record the voice-over on my webcam instead. I will hopefully be able to rectify that in the not-too-distant future.

Once again, thank you all for your support, and stay tuned for more chapters and episodes coming soon.

 _ **UPDATE 7/12/19**_

So, it should be pretty apparent that I'm almost certainly not going to be getting these out on a weekly basis anymore. Looking back, I'm honestly not sure how I managed to keep a pace like that going for so long for the first volume. I apologize for the 5 week or so gap for this one, but there are other things I've been needing to prioritize in my personal life right now. From now on, I'm just going to say each chapter will be finished when it's finished, however long it ends up taking.

Thank you for your understanding.

 _ **UPDATE 3/30/19**_

Editing on "Volume I: Fithos" is (tentatively) complete. Barring any lingering typos I might have missed, the book as it stands is officially finalized.

Alterations to the previously written draft are largely minimal, mostly coming by way of fixing errors, editing the general prose of earlier chapters to stylistically compliment the later ones, and some slight re-arranging of certain scenes between chapters to better serve the overall flow of the narrative. The most obvious change in this regard is the creation of an entirely new Chapter 4, comprised of segments which were originally written as the ending of "Dereliction of Duty" and the opening of "Waltz Beneath the Stars". I believe that the overall pacing of these chapters has been greatly benefited by this, but in doing so however, has naturally thrown off all of the user reviews posted for every chapter after 3 by one. I apologize for this, but I ask that you please understand that my only other option was to completely delete this novelization and re-upload it all again, losing every single review, favorite and follow thus far. Hopefully I won't need to resort to this again going forward, but of course, that's something I'll only be able to judge once Volume II starts making serious headway.

Speaking of which, as of this writing, "Volume II: Lusec" can be considered officially in production. As mentioned in my previous update, I intend to have the prologue out sometime within the next month. I'm going to try to aim for regular weekly updates, but at the same time, I'm not prepared to make any outright promises. The last thing I want is to rush out sub-par material just to meet a deadline. What I will say however, is that if all goes according to plan, this second book will be a significant step up from the first one in every respect. Some of the scenes I have outlined, both original and derived from the game, legitimately give me chills, and I cannot wait to share them with you all.

As usual, if you enjoy my work, please feel free to leave a review telling me what you think. I really appreciate all the support thus far, and want to say thank you for coming along with me on this journey. Onward and upward we go!

 _ **UPDATE 2/13/19**_

As of this writing, the novelization's first volume (of four), entitled "Fithos" has been fully uploaded in its first completed draft. It covers the entirety of disc 1 of the original game.

Up until now, I had strived to release a chapter roughly every week or so, and with the exception of two significantly longer than usual gaps for the holidays and sickness respectively, I have mostly managed to abide by this set parameter. However, from this point forward, following a brief sabbatical to give myself a much needed rest, I intend on spending the next 2-3 months refining my existing writing. More than simply correcting typos (of which I am aware there are quite a few), or otherwise adding more detail to certain portions which may have been somewhat rushed, my general style has already begun to change the more I have written, to the point where as the chapters go on, it starts to read like the work of a different author. And so, before going any further with the story, I believe the time is right to do some polishing and fine tuning.

Once Volume I is in a place that I am content with, work on Volume II, "Lusec" will begin (and I'm sure you can guess what Volumes III and IV will be called). Fortunately, the working outline for the next volume is largely complete, being even more fleshed out with detail than that of Volume I, and so once work eventually begins, it should be back to mostly consistent chapter uploads. I expect to have the prologue of Volume II up sometime around late April or early May. I promise it will be worth the wait. Some of the things I have planned for this novelization going forward will blow your mind.

In the meantime, if you have read my work and enjoy what you see, please do feel free to leave a review telling me what you think. I thoroughly appreciate all the kind words so far. To have reached double digit counts for reviews, favorites and followers, and be just shy of 2.5K views in a mere 5 months is truly more than I could have expected. Frankly, I'm just happy anyone cares at all. Likewise, if you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I promise I will try to keep any responses spoiler-free outside of what is already common knowledge in the original game. With the things I have in store, there's no way I'm about to let slip the big guns. And as mentioned in my original blurb below, I welcome any and all constructive criticism. My ultimate goal is to make this the FFVIII novelization by which all others are judged, and with the encouragement you've all given me, I really do think it's feasible. We're already a quarter of the way there.

* * *

 **Legal Disclaimer**

All material in this novelization is without exception based upon a pre-existing story by Kazushige Nojima, Yoshinori Kitase, Shinji Hashimoto and Square Enix Co., Ltd.

* * *

 **Foreword**

Final Fantasy VIII, while not my favorite entry in the long tenured video game series, nor perhaps even the most well-beloved in many circles of the fandom, remains a very important and nostalgic game for me, personally. Moreso than the plentiful number of memorable moments such as the opening cutscene (my pick for one of, if not the best opening to any game ever), the Dollet Field Exam, Squall and Rinoa's waltz, the train kidnapping, the assassination attempt, missile base mission, battle of the Gardens and so much more, it is the underlying themes of overcoming childhood trauma and self imposed isolation that have left their mark on me more than anything else, and inspired me to make changes in my own life. It is a story that, despite its at times stumbling execution, I have come to appreciate even more with the passage of time, especially since I first started drafting this novelization.

That all being said however, I would like to take a moment to set some guidelines under which I have gone about undertaking this arduous task. Namely, those concerning what any readers should and should not expect from this fan work, and how it might differ from other works of its kind.

To sum it all up, those expecting a one-for-one recreation of the video game in written form that slavishly adheres to every little minor detail and nuance will be in for quite the disappointment. I initially set out with this exact goal in mind when I made my first attempt to write this novelization back in 2013, swearing to myself that I would only take liberties with the source material when absolutely necessary. It was to the point where I found myself attempting to describe every single environment exactly as it appears in the game, trying to shoehorn in as much descriptive language as possible to get every detail down precisely. This as you may imagine was an absolute chore, sucking almost all enjoyment out of what was meant to be a labor of love. What's more, in approaching the story with such a tight creative window to operate within, I felt the writing itself lacked a unique voice, and was at times just boring to read. I got about as far as the group setting out for Timber before I scrapped everything and put the project on ice indefinitely.

Five years later, with experience working as an editor on a similar (and highly acclaimed) fan novelization under my belt, I feel far better equipped to approach this task with a new mindset. That being to create a "re-imagining" of a classic video game, rather than a simple re-telling. Rest assured, the vast majority of major plot points are all intact, and the characters themselves remain the same in terms of their personalities and actions. You're not going to be getting some cheery, happy-go-lucky bastardization of Squall, or a gloomy, emo Zell. However, certain details and minor plot points surrounding the story at large, or even those touching on the motivations and backstories of specific characters may be altered, embellished or even outright removed. Likewise, some plot threads will be entirely created from scratch and inserted into the story to compliment the already existing script.

Rather than putting too much focus on making sure every last hair of the original work is in its proper position, my objective is to create a novelization that puts the narrative flow and character interactions above all else to create an enthralling experience for the reader. As such, before even typing up the first draft of the prologue, I sat down over the course of many months, outlining the story from the beginning, scene-by-scene, shot-by-shot. The goal is for every single scene included to either progress the overarching narrative forward, or to further develop and build off the characters' relationships with one another (and ideally both at once). Suffice to say I'm not a fan of "shit happening" for the sake of it.

At the end of the day however, this is merely my own unique interpretation of events adapted for a different medium, and I thank anyone who decides to give it a read for doing so, and welcome any and all constructive criticism. I would also like to thank M.J. Gallagher, for having given me the honor of assisting him as an editor on his own Final Fantasy VII Unofficial Novelization, as well as inspiring me to give this a shot in the first place. And of course, a big thank you to the folks at Square/Squaresoft/Square Enix, past and present who had a hand in creating this game. Every time I go back and play it, it always gets me thinking about the good old days… and the time 9 year-old me had to ask my dad for help because I couldn't understand what the hell the junction tutorial was telling me to do. And neither could he.


	2. Prologue - The Lost Boy

prologue

 **PROLOGUE – THE LOST BOY**

The brisk evening air swept across the dimly lit beach-side, carrying the familiar scent of fresh salt to the young boy's nostrils. From his vantage point by the stone house on the overlooking hill, he stared out across the sea, his eyes taking in the beauty of the full moon's luminescence reflecting upon the waters. It was indeed a peaceful night, perfectly serene save for wisps of excited chatter coming from down on the sand, meeting his ears by way of that same soothing breeze. He turned his gaze to face the silhouette of the lighthouse on the tip of the small peninsula. By its base, in the shadow of its thirty-foot height, he could just barely make out the shapes of the others. The darkness cloaking them was broken only by several small flickers of flame, no doubt the matches they had stolen from the pantry along with the fireworks set aside for the new year. There would unquestionably be severe punishment for all of them after this.

Even so, were this no more than two months earlier, the boy would gladly have joined them in their delinquency. The innocent curiosity of a four year-old, and his unyielding desire to be a part of the group would have had him bounding down the sandy trail to the shore to light his very own firecracker. But now, there was no joy, no mounting anticipation rising in his stomach as he saw sparks fly from the first ignited fuse. Despite the peaceful night, the soothing breeze and the gorgeous view from which to watch the spectacle unfold, none of it could fill the emptiness he felt inside. He knew that he needed to be strong, to be self-reliant, to keep a brave face on just as he had been told, but the loneliness he now lived with was truly crippling.

 _I_ _didn't_ _even g_ _e_ _t to say goodbye…_

His reflections were at once interrupted by the shrill whistling of the first firework soaring into the night sky, climbing higher and higher as its sizzling trail traced a shimmering swathe across the starlit horizon. Moments later, it burst into a dazzling splash of light, bathing the seashore in emerald green as the sound of the explosion rocked the once tranquil night. There was a chorus of cheers from below, as the children quickly readied another firework.

"I'm telling!" came a shrieking cry from close behind. The boy turned back to see the outcast, resident tattle-tale of the bunch come bolting from the direction of the stone house, and take off down the sandy path as fast as his little legs would carry him. "You're all gonna get in _so_ much trouble!"

His concern was not without merit. Taking into account the sheer volume of the explosion however, coupled with the swiftly following second one, this time raining down a crimson shower of stars, their caretaker would surely be out to deal with the lot of them within moments. There was nothing to be gained for such a loudmouthed brat to be sticking his nose where it did not belong; he was already the most unpopular and routinely derided of them all. If he were at all concerned with his reputation, it would do him far more benefit to keep his mouth shut and focus solely on his own well being, rather than showing weakness by trying to weasel his way back into the group that had shunned him.

 _I'_ _m_ _never_ _gonna_ _be like him,_ the boy silently affirmed, as their matron, right on cue, went bolting down the trail after him, shouting for the disobedient children to put the explosives down immediately. _I'm gonna be strong. I'm_ _gonna do it on my own, so I won't need anyone's help again. It's the only way…_

* * *

"Say that to my face, one more time!" the blonde haired youth growled, his voice rising above the din of chatter between other students passing through the hallway.

Squall closed his eyes in frustration, exhaling heavily through his nose as the piercing feeling of impatience began to boil over in his mind. The two had never gotten along for as long as they had known one another, and for the longest time Squall had been content to simply ignore him and his incessant goading. All he had wished for was to be left to his own devices, to live out his days at the academy on his own terms, and one day make something of himself by becoming a SeeD. It was unfortunate then, that in the face of such constant pestering and abuse from this one unpleasant sixth-year boy, it had at long last come to this.

"I said, you're acting like a jackass, just like you always do. Because it would just kill you not to be the center of attention to everyone, wouldn't it? Now go away."

Not wanting to spend a moment longer arguing with his thick-headed harasser, Squall swiftly about-faced and started down the hall toward his next class. He had barely taken three full steps before a hand caught his wrist from behind and violently twisted him back around.

"You've got a real mouth on you," the jackass breathed menacingly, their faces mere inches from one another as he yanked Squall's arm upward. A circle of students had begun to form around the two, muttering to one another in equal parts concern and anticipation of the imminent fistfight.

"Looks like someone needs to remind you to respect your upperclassmen."

"And someone needs to remind _you_ to be an example for your _under_ classmen!"

Squall promptly turned his head in tandem with his tormentor in the direction of the outburst. An all-too-familiar sixth-year girl with glasses and blonde hair done up in pigtails stepped forward from the gathering crowd, her lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"Let him go, Seifer! Or I swear I'll get Instructor Aki to give you detention for the next month!"

The smug aggressor met her threat in turn with a defiant smirk, indicating not one iota of respect for her assertion.

"As if I'd expect anything less from the darling teacher's pet! This is between me and him, so keep your damn meddling out of this!" He turned his attention back to Squall, the same sardonic smile remaining plastered on his face.

"Unless, of course," he continued in a condescending tone. "This little wuss is too afraid to fight his own battles, and needs big bad Quisty to step in for him again."

The boy lowered his gaze from Seifer's to the immaculately polished flooring beneath their feet, his free fist clenched in frustration.

"… stinks," he mumbled, beginning to gather saliva in his mouth.

"What was that?"

In one swift whip of his head, he raised his face to Seifer's once more and spit, the loogie splatting directly on his nose.

"Your breath stinks," he growled, as the surrounding onlookers proceeded to gasp and guffaw in disbelief.

In a flash, Seifer slugged him in the stomach with his free arm and thrust him to the ground. The force of the blow knocked every ounce of wind from his lungs as the gathered crowd erupted into hysteria.

"Now you're _dead_!" he bellowed, descending fast upon the reeling boy. Squall winced in apprehension, preparing himself for the oncoming flurry of fists.

"Almasy!" a gruff voice roared above the commotion, halting Seifer's impending onslaught and prematurely silencing the erupting pandemonium.

Even from his position lying prostrate on the floor, his vision obscured by his opponent towering above him, Squall recognized the voice immediately as belonging to Instructor Aki. Seifer's Instructor, and the one Quistis had threatened him with calling, he was the sixth-year teacher infamous among the student body for his unbelievably strict and stodgy persona.

"Get off that boy this instant, and come with me to my office at once! Trepe, see him to the infirmary! The rest of you, to your classes on the double!"

The previously enraptured crowd at once began to disperse in all directions, as Seifer begrudgingly rose to his feet. He wiped the spittle from his face with his arm to reveal a mask of fury and resentment.

"This isn't over," he hissed as he turned to face his punishment. "Not by a long shot."

Squall sat upright, still nursing the punch he had taken to his gut. Quistis rushed over to his side to assist as she was told, her bespectacled eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?"

"It's nothing," Squall replied with a grunt, rising to his feet. "I've been through a lot worse in training."

"Squall, you should have just walked away," she sighed with exasperation. "Why were you trying to escalate things?"

"It's none of your business."

"It is when I'm the one who has to take you to the infirmary! I've told you before, please, don't let Seifer get to you like this. If he keeps picking on you, _tell me_ , and I'll make sure something is done about it."

"I don't need your help," Squall coldly replied, becoming increasingly irritated by her ever-patronizing attitude. "And I don't need to go to the infirmary. I need to become stronger on my own. I don't ever want to have to rely on others again."

He turned away in complacency, and resumed his trek down the hall to his next class, for which he would without question be tardy.

 _The world is full of this kind of cruelty, and you have to face it on your own…_

* * *

The successive clashing of steel on steel rang out into the chilly early Spring morning, a veritable metallic symphony marring the otherwise tranquil and picturesque scenery. To the north lay many miles of lush forest stretching onward to the towering Gaulg Mountains, their peaks still topped with residual snow left from the long winter. To the south spanned plains of vibrant green leading to an almost equally imposing structure which appeared to resemble a giant synthetic conch shell; the shimmering floating halo above vibrantly glistened bright blue and gold in the pre-dawn hours. And atop a rocky plateau in the middle of it all stood a pair of swordsmen locked in a fearsome duel, the most recent of countless since their heated rivalry had begun seven years earlier.

The boys had become young men, their skill with the blade a marvel to behold as they slashed, parried and evaded with the utmost proficiency. What their movements may have lacked in grace, they easily made up for in sheer power and speed. The intensity with which they flung themselves at one another mustered a palpable aura of blood lust upon the battleground. This was no friendly sparring, but a grudge match, and one that Squall could not bear to have refused even if he had wished. As much as he despised the intertwined reputation the two had garnered over the years, running from a direct challenge was simply not an option for him. To display weakness was to be stripped of his self-reliance and autonomy, a fate he deemed worse than death.

Squall brought his gunblade thundering down with all the strength his arm muscles would allow, only for Seifer to deftly sidestep the vertical slash and swipe past him, knocking him off balance as he did so. He regained his footing a moment later, and swiveled back to face his rival skidding to a halt on the opposite end of the gravely terrain, his own gunblade resting by his side. The same vindictive smirk that had endlessly provoked him for longer than his memory could recall remained as prominent as ever, reaffirming louder than any spoken taunt that his struggle was in vain. And yet, no matter Seifer's superior sword technique, he would not surrender.

There remained one distinct advantage in Squall's reserve that his nemesis could not match, not for lack of ability, but a stubborn aversion that he absolutely refused to pivot on. It was perhaps a dishonorable move to exploit this imbalance of power between them to secure victory, but war knew no honor among enemies. To achieve his goal of strength at any cost, he would strike down any foe that stood before him, by means fair or foul. If such was deemed necessary on his path to becoming a SeeD, he would gladly compromise integrity for power.

His legs akimbo in a fighting stance, he expertly flipped his weapon in his right hand into a reverse grip, and raised his outstretched left hand before him, his palm facing Seifer as if to create a halting gesture. He began his charge forward, focusing his mind as he had trained for countless hours over the past three-and-a-half years, beckoning the energy to manifest itself in his hand. He had cleared half the distance to his adversary before coming to the realization that something was awry; not merely that Seifer remained stationary in the face of the incoming blast, his eyes shut in what appeared to be irritation, but that for some unknown reason Squall could not conjure the blast to begin with. His confusion turned to shock as Seifer, not even opening his eyes to acknowledge his approach, nonchalantly raised his own outstretched palm, a blazing sphere of orange flame at once forming within his grasp. His legs stumbled to a halt, just barely managing to raise the gunblade to block the fireball in time. The force of the impact combined with his abrupt deceleration sent him tumbling to the ground on his back, grunting in pain as he reeled from the magical assault.

Squall's mind began to race, frantically trying to piece together what had just transpired. Why had he been unable to harness the energy to create his own fireball? Why had Seifer so casually broken his own vow? And how could he possibly turn such a grave setback around? He raised himself to one knee, only for his downcast eyes to meet a pair of black boots and the whipping coattails of a long gray jacket before him.

"Such a disgrace," came a deriding voice from above. "Looks like I'm going to have to leave an impression that lasts."

He tilted his head up to meet the face of his sworn enemy once more, and saw the terrifying image of his gunblade raised high above his head, ready to fall like a guillotine. Time slowed to a near halt, as Squall's mind screamed in alarm, recognizing the danger and urging him to move. He simply could not right himself fast enough, his legs immovable in his lingering confusion, frozen in place as Seifer slashed the blade diagonally across his face, directly between the eyes.

The pain was beyond anything Squall had ever experienced in his life. The force of the blade twisted his head to the side as it cleaved a deep wound just above his nose, splattering a small pool of blood across the rock below as it left his flesh. His face was on fire, his eyes tightly shut as he felt the vital fluid begin to spill down his features. He could only grit his teeth as he growled in agony, his mind turning feral in the unbearable state of anguish. He could no longer form a cogent thought, much less curse the name of the man who had subjected him to such misery. All that occupied his mind now was an instinctive, monstrous desire for vengeance at any cost.

He opened his eyes at last, to see Seifer still wearing that same sick smile as he looked down upon the wounded young soldier. The seething hatred burning in Squall's heart had at last reached its zenith. Without any warning, he ferociously slashed his own gunblade upward with a tremendous roar of righteous fury. Seifer noticed the strike beginning in motion, attempting to pull his upper body back to avoid the tip of the blade. He could not clear the distance in time and took the slash the right between the eyes, just as he had inflicted upon Squall seconds before. The wicked blonde-haired youth, his mind evidently unable to process what had just occurred quickly enough, merely stood there for a long moment, unblinking in a state of utter shock. And then he screamed, doubling over and dropping his weapon as the blood spilled down his face. Squall allowed his own to fall from his grasp, his rational thought returning steadily. He clutched at the freshly cleaved chasm between his eyes to stop the bleeding and fumbled through the small supply pouch attached to his belt with his other hand. He had packed extra bandages for an eventuality such as this, but could not pull them out before a fist came slamming down on the back of his head, toppling him to the ground face first.

The bludgeoning continued, endlessly, mercilessly, until Squall felt his consciousness begin to drift away into the darkness. He had been unable to defeat Seifer in a standard sword fight, and had taken the dishonorable path by attempting to use magic to shift the odds in his favor. It had failed him, leaving him to reap the consequences of his actions, with no one but himself to blame for the torture he was now experiencing. As he felt the life slowly drain from his body, a final self-fulfilling affirmation crept into his subconscious, a mantra long since internalized and now more applicable than ever before.

 _That's just how it goes, I guess. The world isn't fair. It's cruel. And you have to face it on your own..._


	3. Chapter 1 - In the Garden

1

 **CHAPTER 1 – IN THE GARDEN**

"Come on, Laguna," a voice called from the doorway. "We're going to miss the transport if you don't hurry it up!"

"Just gimme a sec, will ya!?" he hollered back from his locker, being still in the process of gearing up for their newest assignment. "Not like the battle's gonna be over anytime soon, from what we heard. Gotta make sure I don't forget anything big."

Laguna Loire examined himself before the mirror adorning the inside of the locker door, taking his time to double and triple-check his outfitting before he regrouped with his squadmates in the adjoining corridor. The regal navy blue coloring of the Galbadian military attire, coupled with the gleaming silver sheen of the armored breastplate and accompanying shoulder mail cut a dazzling figure upon him. Rather, it would have done so, had he bothered to perform his expected duty of routinely pressing and polishing the uniform's components. In their current condition, the pant legs were visibly wrinkled from having gone without ironing for months on end, while the once spotless alloy had gathered its fair share of grime and fade. His negligence had earned him an earful from the commanding officers on a small handful of occasions, though no more than he was typically reprimanded for his hairstyle. His flowing shoulder-length, dark brown hair was as far from the standard crew cut as any other soldier in his entourage dared to tread the line, and could often be a challenge to stuff into his helmet while on duty. Despite the impracticality and the unwanted attention it tended to bring however, he simply could not bear to cut it.

He was by all accounts an unmotivated slacker of an infantryman, who had passed basic training not even a year earlier with just barely high enough marks to warrant his stature as such. Though a small part of him resented the label, Laguna was honest enough with himself to acknowledge this lack of motivation on his part, and took it all in stride. His was not the heart of a soldier, but a man who dreamed of seeing all the world had to offer with his own two eyes, and living life on his own terms. His enrollment in the Galbadian army had been born out of this desire, and had led him to meet his two best friends, both of whom now stood outside waiting for him to finish gearing up.

He scanned his eyes over his utility belt carefully, perusing the various articles he carried: spare ammunition magazines, two grenades, a rappel cable, and a small container of medical supplies. Satisfied with the state of his basic commodities, he reached into the locker and withdrew his weapon. It was little more than a standard-issue assault rifle, the likes of which nearly every infantryman had become more than accustomed to using in battle. For Laguna however, it was the symbol that instilled him with the confidence and bravery to face down any opponent, the catalyst that could transform a happy-go-lucky man who cared little for violence into a battle-hardened combatant of the Galbadian military. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he reached back inside to retrieve his visored helmet from the upper shelf, before he closed the locker door and stepped out into the hall.

"Everything in order?" asked the same voice from before. Its originator stood propped up against the side of the door to Laguna's right, his own helmet held by his side as he tapped the fingers of his free hand against the wall impatiently.

Kiros Seagill's tall yet thin figure appeared too slender at first glance to possibly belong to a soldier. Likewise, his dark skinned features appeared too smooth and fair for a man, complimented by a set of three braided and beaded dreadlocks to the rear of his black crew cut. In the time Laguna had come to know him however, he had proven himself beyond any doubt to be a deadly fighter on the battlefield, particularly with regard to close-quarters engagement.

Flanking him stood a man taller still, and at least three times in width. Ward Zabac was a fearsome giant of a man, standing at an even seven feet in height and sporting musculature that Laguna and Kiros combined could not match. He was never to be seen anywhere without his signature blue bandana upon his head, the same color as his piercing eyes, which despite their vibrancy were not the most prominent facial feature he possessed. A wicked scar bearing the semblance of a small river ran its way down the entire left side of his face, from where the bandana ended to the bottom of his lightly-stubbled chin. He had never told them of how he had received such an egregious wound, and despite his genuine curiosity, Laguna knew it was not his place to ask.

"Yup, all set. We're good to go, boys!"

"We're heading into a full-on war zone, you know," Kiros sternly reminded him. "We're going to have to stay vigilant at all times. No goofing around like on our last deployment."

 _[...where am I?]_

"Who was goofing around?" Laguna feigned offense, paying little heed to the strange tingling sensation that had just washed over his mind. "We'll be fine. Besides, I don't know about you guys, but I've got way too much left to do with my life to end up keeling over out there."

"Like gawk at the piano lady some more," Ward rebutted in a deep, matter-of-fact tone, eliciting a snicker out of Kiros.

"Don't call her 'the piano lady'! She's got a name!"

Ward turned to make his way down the hall without another word as he pulled his oversized helmet over his bulbous head, Kiros gesturing for Laguna not to take the teasing so seriously before following suit. Begrudgingly, he fell in, as the trio made their way to the vehicle hangar to meet with their assigned troop transport. Deep down in his heart, he knew he could not have asked for a better pair of friends to face the horrors of war alongside.

 _Kinda wish_ _they didn't have to bust my balls so often,_ _though_ _…_

* * *

The beaming sunlight streaming through the window above his head gently roused Squall from his slumber. Merry birdsong reached his ears from beyond, his mind a blur as he slowly cracked open his eyes, and raised his arm to shield his vision from the glare. On the edge of his sight, a figure rose from the swivel-chair situated by his bedside, slender and wrapped in a shawl. His grogginess combined with the intensity of the light prevented him from making out anything more, as the visitor rounded the bed toward the adjoining exit.

"Squall," came the voice, kind and feminine, with what sounded to be a tinge of disappointment. "So we meet again."

The woman stepped through the parting automatic doors, leaving Squall by his lonesome in the otherwise vacant wing of the infirmary. Even in his jumbled and disoriented state of mind, he would have recognized the distinct sanitized scent of latex and chemicals anywhere. This had not been his first time being admitted as an in-patient, and he had no reason to suspect it would be his final one. His eyes at last coming around as he slowly sat up in the cramped twin bed, he reflected upon the circumstances that had brought him to that very moment. He recalled the announcement for those participating in the upcoming field exam to remain on standby, Seifer's challenge to him the night before, and the bloody confrontation on the Alcaud Plains that morning. At once remembering the vicious slice he had received, and the incredible amount of blood loss he had sustained, he quickly raised his black-gloved hand to his forehead, brushing away the numerous hanging strands of his unruly brown hair. A thick bandage had been firmly pressed in place, taking up much of the divide between both of his eyes. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he had not bled out from the wound, nor been rendered blind from even the slightest misdirection of the blade's trajectory. Whether his good fortune were owed to his rival's trained precision, sheer dumb luck, or an amalgamation of the two, he could not say for certain, nor could he fathom how he had been returned to the Garden for treatment to begin with. Surely it could not have been Seifer's doing.

The automatic doors hissed open once more before he could complete the thought, and in stepped a middle-aged woman clad in a white lab-coat with black hair tied up in a bun.

"Ah, look who's awake," she commented before gesturing for someone else outside the door to follow her into the ward.

Dr. Kadowaki had been the chief medical practitioner at Balamb Garden since its inception, and was unquestionably the most knowledgeable person in the field Squall had ever known. That distinction came as a natural result of the innumerable times he had found himself in such a scenario, and through which he had also become intimately familiar with the sarcastic side to her otherwise professional demeanor. Regardless, her expertise and dedication to her craft had been an invaluable benefit for each and every student on campus, despite her tendency to take on the attitude of a nagging mother figure at times. As if on cue, in stepped her colleague, a young blonde-haired woman dressed in regal black SeeD attire with silver-rimmed glasses.

 _Speaking of nagging…_

"How did I just _know_ it would be either you or Seifer?" she sighed, her expression one of exasperation rather than concern for the well being of her student.

Of every SeeD to have trained in the Garden over the last twelve years, none had advanced through the ranks as quickly and with as much aptitude as Quistis Trepe. The acclaimed prodigy of Balamb Garden, and the youngest instructor on the teaching staff by five years, she had achieved a sort of pseudo-celebrity status in certain circles of the student body, some of which had even started an unofficial fan club centered around her. The golden pigtails of years gone by had since been replaced with two elegant fringes framing either side of her face, the remainder of her hair tied up in a duck-tail fashion. For Squall, who had already spent years attempting to put up with her continued insistence on butting in between him and Seifer, the fact that she had become his de-facto instructor a mere six months earlier was almost more than he could stomach.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Kadowaki asked him as she strode over to retrieve his medical chart.

"Okay, I guess," Squall replied. "My head hurts a bit, though."

"Yeah, no kidding," she scoffed as she wrote. "That was one hell of a deep cut. I managed to stop the bleeding, sanitize the wound and perform suturing, but you'd better believe it's going to leave a scar. Seifer looked like he had one just like it when he brought you in, but refused my offer to treat him for some foolish reason. What were you two trying to do to each other out there?"

Squall hesitated, not wishing to compromise any specifics regarding the cut-throat nature of their fight, but instead redirected his attention to the passing mention of how he had ended up in the infirmary to begin with.

"Seifer brought me here?"

"Yep, he had you slung over his shoulder as his 'spoils of war'. He'd wrapped bandages around both your head and his. He dropped your sword off over there, too."

Squall turned his head to the left side of the bed, to see his sheathed gunblade resting against the nightstand.

"I also let your friend in to see you a little while ago, but it looks like she's already left."

"My friend?" Squall questioned, remembering the woman who had been at his bedside.

"Will he be fit to participate in the field exam today?" Quistis asked the doctor before Squall had the chance to ask who it had been. At once, his attention was drawn away yet again by the realization of far more pressing matters at hand.

 _The exam's today? Already?_

"I would say so. So long as he avoids any more serious trauma to the head, the sutures should hold. It would be another thing entirely if it were an arm or a leg."

Dr. Kadowaki heaved a heavy sigh, placing the medical chart on the nearby nightstand, and turned her scrutiny back to the bedridden youth.

"Take it easy out there, alright? I know you just love to push your luck, but that was a very close call you just had. You might not get so lucky again."

"Tell that to Seifer," Squall retorted.

"That Seifer," the doctor muttered in concern. "He won't listen to anyone, will he? Can't you just ignore him for once?"

"Don't even bother with that, Doctor," Quistis interjected with her arms crossed. "I've been trying to get that through his head since..."

She paused, seeming lost in thought for the briefest of moments.

"You know, I think it's gotten to the point where I legitimately can't even _remember_ how long it's been."

"I can't just run away," Squall insisted.

"You want to be cool, huh?" Dr. Kadowaki snorted as she slowly began to remove the bandage from between his eyes. "Well, don't go getting yourself killed in the process. Consider yourself discharged. Just remember to keep the water pressure down when you shower, and try not to stand with your forehead directly under the stream. You're free to go. And seriously, take care of yourself out there."

"Noted," Squall quipped as he lifted off the duvet and swung his feet out of bed. He quickly slipped them into his waiting black boots by the side and began to lace them, knowing full well that time was of the essence.

What little wonder it was to have just experienced such a vivid dream of being a soldier heading off to battle; the day for which he had spent his entire life training was finally upon him, and he could not afford to let this opportunity pass him by at any cost. His footwear secured, he rose to his feet, snatched his gunblade from the bedside, and pulled the weapon from its solid black sheath to properly examine it for wear or damage.

The polished sheen of the silver blade was mesmerizing in the sunlight, adorned with the image of a lion's head in mid-roar and extending from a cross guard designed in the likeness of a six-round revolver. More than a mere stylistic flourish, each of the six chambers held an explosive round which could be fired by pulling the trigger fixed on the weapon's hilt. When depressed, the vibration produced from the detonation would further magnify the impact of the strike, allowing it to cleave through virtually any material known to man. When considering the impeccable sense of timing required to master usage of the weapon, let alone the ability to effectively utilize it in combat, the number of cadets to have ever selected it as their specialty were few indeed. At the moment, there were only two: himself, and the man who had brought him to the infirmary, in both respects.

The tip of the blade appeared to be soiled with a smudge of crimson, the bloody residue left from Squall's desperate retaliation on Seifer. He made a mental note to clean it upon returning to his dormitory and re-sheathed the sword, clipping it to the left side of his twin belts. Satisfied, he turned to his instructor and started out the door with her, passing through the infirmary lobby and into the connecting corridor leading to the main hub of the academy. Through the rectangular glass windows lining either side of the synthetic hallway, he could see various cadets clad in uniform milling about the adjacent courtyard. Some rushed to make it to their next class, while others merely tried to make the most of such a beautiful spring morning. Several of the many picnic tables dotted about the expanse played host to an equal number of Triple Triad card games, just as a thicket of trees to the south lent their shade to yet more students engaged in their own personal reading material. Such was a day in the life at Balamb Garden, the world-renowned institution where young minds trained rigorously each day in the hope of joining the ranks of SeeD, the elite mercenary army.

The Garden itself was a massive structure, easily a half-mile in diameter and not significantly shorter in height to accommodate for a student body numbering in the thousands. The central structure was designed in the image of a towering conch shell, tinged blue, silver and gold, topped by a suspended floating ring akin to a halo with a cross-shaped crest upon it. It was a breathtaking sight to behold, visible even from the namesake town of Balamb twenty minutes away by transport. Numerous facilities the likes of the infirmary branched off from the center, dividing the open space between each connecting pathway into eight semi-circular inner courtyards walled off from the outside. It was the place Squall had called home for as long as he could recall, and where today he would at last achieve admission to those envied ranks he aspired for.

"Squall, what's on your mind?" Quistis chimed in, snapping his attention back to his current bearings.

"Nothing," his response sounded in stereo. His instructor had anticipated and mimicked his very reply in tandem, intonation and all, and burst into a mischievous giggle not a moment after.

"What's so funny?" he irritably questioned, the two coming to a halt before the entrance to the atrium. It was moments such as these that filled Squall with all the more disbelief that his standing as a cadet was at the mercy of this still juvenile woman, merely a year older than he.

"Funny? No, it's not that," she assured him, catching her breath. "I'm just... happy. I feel like I'm finally beginning to understand my student a little. That's all."

"I'm not _that_ easy to figure out."

"Then tell me," she insisted. "Tell me more about yourself sometime. If there's ever anything you need to talk about, I'm always all-ears."

"That's-"

"-none of your business?" she finished his sentence for him, simply cracking that same cheeky grin. "Fine, you don't have to if you don't want to. Regardless, participants for the exam are to assemble in the ballroom in cadet attire at 1100. That gives you a little less than an hour to clean yourself up, check your equipment and make your way upstairs. I'll be the one overseeing your squad."

 _How convenient,_ he mused, taking his leave. _Wonder what strings she had to pull to make that happen?_

The interior of the Garden's main structure was a massive atrium, the outer rim a wide circular pathway around the circumference which branched off at regular intervals in each of the eight compass directions. Beneath the raised walkways sloshed what was for all intents and purposes a small lake, constantly refilled by a series of fish-shaped fountains arranged in the open space between the rim and the further elevated central platform. Accessible by four separate sets of stairs situated to the north, south, east and west sides, a massive pillar ringed by numerous glass, capsule-shaped elevators reached up into the ceiling on the tenth level, intertwining with a network of other walkways above like a hive. More impressive still was that the dizzying height in fact comprised of only half the distance to the top floor; the elevators continued through a series of openings leading to the upper levels, twenty in all. Students scurried to and fro as Squall made his way around to the northern dormitories, catching several unnerved glances from passersby. A sinking feeling promptly took up residence in his gut, understanding that he would undoubtedly be receiving many more such stares over the course of the day.

After minutes of navigating the familiar halls, he arrived at his dorm, fished his card-key out of his back pocket, and unlocked the door. Stepping inside, he bypassed the central common area he shared with his three roommates and entered his bedroom, closing the door and for the first time that morning examining himself in the mirror on its rear. His casual attire was the same as always, a bleak and somber wardrobe comprised almost entirely of black: black boots, pants, gloves, and his signature leather bomber jacket with a white fur-trim collar. Aside from this, the only reprieve from the all-encompassing dreariness came from the white v-neck t-shirt he wore underneath, the brown belts intertwined in an X around his waist, and the silver lion pendant he wore around his neck, bearing the same design as that imprinted on his gunblade, as well as the ring upon his left hand. Squall's blue eyes met themselves in the mirror, and at once noticed the freshly-cut swathe between them. The scar stretched diagonally downward from his lower forehead, above his right eye and across the bridge of his nose to just barely under the corner of his left. Surprisingly, the mark appeared to suit him well, inadvertently bestowing him with the distinct battle-hardened appearance that he had long strived for. His only lingering disappointment came with the knowledge of whose hand it had been dealt to him by.

 _At least I didn't end up like Fujin,_ he thought as he turned away from his reflection, and began to undress to take a shower. While he was forced to share the central kitchen and common area with his roommates, each of their four bedrooms came equipped with their own connecting bathroom and shower combo. He stripped down, turned the faucet on and stepped into the stream, taking care not to raise the pressure too high per Dr. Kadowaki's advice. As he rinsed the grime and sweat from his body, he turned his thoughts to the upcoming battle and the potential ramifications of what was to come.

The SeeD field examination was held annually at the beginning of each spring school term following the entrance ceremony. It was to be a full-fledged military operation conducted with the express purpose of testing the skills of the eligible cadets on the battlefield, with the most superb candidates graduating to the rank of SeeD. Naturally, it was impossible to schedule such an operation in advance until a suitable request came in for consideration, and so the registered students were given a tentative two week period in which they were expected to prepare and be at the ready to roll out at a moment's notice. It had only been a mere two days since then, a surprisingly quick turnaround based on prior years.

At seventeen, this was the first year Squall would be eligible to attempt the exam. Garden regulations dictated that each cadet must pass before the age of twenty, at which point they would be released from the academy. In essence, every student would be given a potential three attempts to pass, though it was not unusual for some to abstain on their first year in hopes of bettering their skills, and all but expected of students transferring from Galbadia and Trabia Gardens for the purpose of taking the exam. Seifer and Quistis, both being a year older than he, had made their first attempts the previous year. The former had received a failing evaluation due to his unprofessional conduct, while the latter had supposedly performed with such an unprecedented level of mastery, that she had been extended the opportunity to apply for an instructor's license almost immediately after graduation.

 _I_ will _pass_ , he swore as he stepped out of the shower, drying himself quickly with a towel. _I've trained too hard for this._

He strode back into his bedroom, throwing on a fresh set of undergarments and retrieving his cadet uniform from the closet. The blue pants and jacket were lined with silver flourishes, the shoulders patterned with the SeeD crest on either side. As he donned the familiar attire before the mirror, he was struck with a strange sense of deja-vu, reminded once more of the dream he had experienced prior to awakening in the infirmary. The color scheme was nearly identical to that of the Galbadian military, if entirely different in terms of design. Regardless of his inexplicable unease, he dressed himself, checked his gunblade, making sure to wipe away the lingering bloodstain with a sheer white cloth, and proceeded to stock his uniform's belt with the necessary preserves. He re-filled the ammunition compartment with a spare set of rounds, clipped on his med-kit and sheathed weapon, and reached over for the last missing article still left attached to his casual attire's intertwined belts. Seconds passed as he ran his bare fingers across the full length of the leather straps, realizing it was nowhere to be found.

 _Where is it!?_

Squall's heart caught in his throat as he frantically double-checked the two belts, hoping beyond hope that he had simply overlooked it. He finally tossed them on his bed and began combing over the entire dormitory, his breathing becoming erratic as he came up empty-handed once more. Had he dropped it on the way back? Had it fallen off in the infirmary? Or worse still, had it fallen off when he'd been carried back to the Garden unconscious, at which point it may well be beyond recovery? It was an all too real possibility, and with less than fifteen minutes left before the scheduled assembly in the ballroom, he would need to move quickly.

Squall bolted out the door at once, his eyes fixed to the ground every step of the way. He retraced his steps all the way back to the atrium, taking the outer rim counterclockwise in the direction of the infirmary. He just barely managed to dodge the crowds of oncoming students as he scanned the floor at light-speed, cursing the flurry of shoes that obscured his view.

"'Scuse me, sorry!" came a voice approaching from the direction of the quad. "Sorry, coming through! Oh geez, I'm late, I'm late, I'm _late_!"

Squall was knocked off balance as a young girl clad in her cadet uniform slammed into him, falling backward onto the floor. She cried out in surprise as she landed, the surrounding students stopping in their tracks to observe the commotion.

"Are you okay?" Squall asked as he extended his hand to help her up.

She paused for a moment as a look of apprehension flashed across her features, perhaps feeling intimidated at the sight of his new scar. The cursory expression fell away as quickly as it had appeared as she accepted his offer, rising to her feet again with his assistance. Her hair was brown and shoulder-length, curled upward on either side of her kind face, and as her striking green eyes met his, she finally cracked a smile.

"I'm fine, thanks!" she beamed. "Sorry about that, I was really in a hurry."

"Aren't we all?" Squall chastised her as he turned to leave. "Just be more careful next time."

"Um, actually," she started sheepishly, hands clasped behind her back in embarrassment. "You… wouldn't happen to know where the ballroom is, would you? I just transferred here from Trabia Garden, and I'm still trying to figure out where everything is."

"The ballroom?" Squall asked, puzzled. "You're not taking the SeeD field exam, are you?"

"Yeah, that's right!" she excitedly exclaimed. "This place is _so_ much bigger than Trabia, I don't even know where to start looking!"

"You _just_ transferred here?" he reiterated. "And you're already taking the exam?"

"Yup! I already finished all my training before coming here. Is there something wrong?"

Squall was utterly taken aback at the sheer naivete this bubbly girl exemplified, as though she possessed no cognizance of the unbelievable disadvantage she would face for jumping in right away. Surely the instructors had explained the risks, and recommended that she wait until passing the next certification in a few months. And yet, if only based on this single brief interaction they had shared, she certainly did appear to be of the 'leap-before-you-look' persuasion.

"No," he lied. "It's just that doesn't happen all too often. Anyway, good luck. I'll be taking the exam too."

"Oh, awesome! Then can you show me the way?"

 _Damn._

Squall realized too late that he should have kept his mouth shut. He had no time to be wasting casually chatting with such an overzealous transfer student. He quickly glanced at his watch, realizing that his remaining time had now dipped below the ten-minute mark, and he had yet to find his elusive missing piece of equipment. Even if it were indeed in the infirmary, he would almost certainly never make it to the assembly in time. If there was one thing Balamb Garden frowned upon above almost all else, it was tardiness. Showing up late could potentially bar him from taking part in the exam altogether, which was something he simply could not afford to risk.

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed. "Let's go."

"Yay! Thanks so much!" she rejoiced. "So, where to?"

"We need to take the elevator up to the fifteenth floor," he gestured up the nearby stairs to the central platform.

"Oh, man. I didn't know it was all the way up there! Okay, let's get moving."

The two started up the stairs to the circle of glass capsules, finding the first available one and maneuvering themselves inside. As the girl stepped aboard ahead of him, Squall took note of the pair of large nunchaku strapped to her back; each of the two iron bars appeared as long as one of her arms, their solid red coloring decorated with smatterings of gold. He pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, understanding it to be the point of no return. And yet, if this girl was brave enough to face the exam at such a detriment, then surely he could make it through all the same. The only thing he could do now was hope that Dr. Kadowaki had found his missing item and would keep it safe for him. The prospect of having lost it out on the vast wilderness of the Alcaud Plains was almost too much to bear. The doors slid shut and the elevator started to rise, providing the two a stellar aerial view of the atrium.

"The bottom floor is the connecting hub for all the main facilities," he formally began. "On the north side you have the dorms, the cafeteria and the parking garage. And since you were coming from the quad, I take it you're at least somewhat familiar with there."

"Yeah!" she excitedly affirmed. "I'm on the committee for this year's Garden Festival! I'm sure it's going to be great!"

"Anyway," he continued. "Going counter-clockwise from the quad is the infirmary, the entrance, the library and the training center. Most of the higher floors are reserved for classrooms and lecture halls. Except floor 10, which is the physical fitness floor, and floor 15 which is the ballroom, like I said."

"That's a lot to take in."

"Sorry," he apologized, only half meaning it. "But we're a bit pressed for time. Anyway, the floors above the ballroom are the living quarters and meeting rooms for faculty and instructors. You need a special card-key to access those floors. And the twentieth floor at the top is the Headmaster's Office."

"Question!" she chimed in. "What's the headmaster's name?"

"Headmaster Cid Kramer," he answered as the elevator came to a rest, the doors parting into a circular antechamber through which the elevator-pillar stemmed. Its walls were decorated with elaborate golden flourishes in the design of various flowers and trees, no doubt conceptualized to accentuate the theme of a botanical garden.

"I'm sure he'll be making a speech to send us off. It's over this way."

He gestured to the large double doors standing ajar at the north end of the chamber, opening into a grand glass-domed ballroom rimmed by towering golden arches. From each of their supporting pillars hung majestic banners, already set in place for the coming graduation ball to be held in honor of the successful candidates. The archways situated furthest from the door opened to a series of outdoor balconies, while the remainder led to the designated staff-only catering and preparation areas that took up much of the rest of the floor. A stage had been erected to the opposite end of the entrance, with a speaking podium at the fore, and in the middle of it all, a massive crowd of cadets and SeeDs alike forming their assigned squadrons.

Standing guard around the perimeter were a collective of the Garden's enigmatic robed faculty, known to the student body at large as the 'Thorns'. Unlike the blue and silver of the standard cadet attire, or the solid black with fringes of gold that adorned the SeeDs, the Thorns each wore flowing red and white robes topped by a golden, disk-shaped headpiece that shrouded their entire visage. They were a mysterious entity, unbelievably strict in their adherence to and upholding of the Garden code, and bore a level of authority above even the instructors and SeeD captains.

"Wow," the girl breathed in amazement. "Just how many students are signed up for this?"

"Likely most of the year-twelve class," Squall answered. "And any stragglers that didn't make it the last two years. Probably somewhere in the two-hundred range, plus around half that many SeeDs to accompany us."

"Squall!" cried a voice from off to the side of the ballroom. "Over here!"

He turned his head to see Quistis beckoning to him from the edge of the crowd, standing alongside a single cadet. The young man cut a figure ever so slightly shorter than she, though sported a similar shade of blonde hair, wildly spiked in the front. Squall's heart sank as he recognized the signature tattoo design imprinted on the left side of his face, a collection of strange black tendrils that framed his eye.

 _Oh, please no…_

"That's your squad?" the girl snapped him out of his dread.

"Unfortunately, I think so."

"Aw, don't be such a downer!" she playfully nudged him. "Now, if I can just find my own squad..."

"Well, I can't help you there," he said, turning to make the short jaunt over to his instructor. "Good luck with the exam."

"Wait!" she stopped him. "'Squall' was it? My name's Selphie. Thanks for showing me here. And yeah, good luck to you, too!"

With that, she began to wrap around the assembly in the opposite direction in the search for her own team. Squall trudged over to Quistis and the blonde youth who could only be his squadmate, his dismay building ever more as he realized it was indeed who he had suspected.

"So, I'm with you, huh?" the boy asked. "Let's do our best out there, 'kay?"

"Whatever," he mused, hoping now more than ever that the exam would be a quick, in-and-out procedure.

Zell Dincht was a personality entirely opposed to Squall's own: obnoxiously cheery and loudmouthed, yet hot-headed and easily riled. He was a superb martial-artist, virtually unmatched in hand-to-hand combat among the Garden populace, yet also a gear-head with a penchant for all things technology-related. What shame it was that for all his mechanical intelligence, he sported an emotional intelligence to match that of many an underclassman yet to even reach basic weapons training.

"Heard Seifer whooped you pretty bad this morning," he goaded, his eyes landing on Squall's forehead. "Well, I can _see_ that now."

"I got him back for it. And besides, it wasn't a fight. We were just training."

The lie escaped his lips with greater ease than he had imagined.

"Betcha _he_ doesn't think so. Look, Seifer's just being a pain in the ass like always. All you have to do is ignore him."

 _Who are you, Dr. Kadowaki?_

"That's-

"-none of your business." Quistis finished his sentence once again, tagging a small chuckle on the end. "Speaking of which however, that 'pain in the ass' as you so eloquently put it happens to be your squad leader."

"Say _what_!?" Zell reeled.

 _It just got worse._

"I'm sorry," Quistis apologized. "It wasn't my decision, and it can't be changed. He gets preferential standing by default for being the most combat-experienced of you three."

Squall had not a clue of how to react to this news. The idea of Seifer being given any modicum of authority was a truly frightening prospect to consider, and particularly so if he was to be the one under his command. He did not know the details as they related to his 'unprofessional conduct' from the previous year's exam, but found it hard to understand why the higher-ups would place him in such a position of power in spite of it all.

"And here he comes," Zell groaned, prompting Squall to raise his head back to the entrance.

Seifer Almasy strode forward, flanked by his two partners in crime, both underclassmen who would not be participating in the current exam. To his left stood Raijin, a tall bronze-skinned exemplar of fitness. Despite being only sixteen, he had already developed a wealth of dark stubble upon his square jaw, which combined with his height and clearly visible muscles gave him a far older appearance. His abs bulged proudly from his toned stomach, placed on full display courtesy of an ill-fitting vest that barely covered most of his upper body, while his pants were a baggy black fabric tied by a red cloth-belt. He was a blowhard by nature, much like Zell, though clearly in far more dire need of the latent brains to compliment his brawn.

To Seifer's right stood Fujin, a young woman dressed entirely in light blue with short silver hair and an eye-patch covering her left eye. The color of her right was an unnatural red, and yet despite all of this, the most peculiar oddity of Fujin's lay not in her physical appearance. Her preferred manner of speaking was concise to the point of absurdity, coming in brief one or two word bursts rather than fully-formed sentences. As such, engaging with her in a proper conversation was all but impossible, and Squall would often wonder just how the three ever managed to communicate effectively.

The man of the hour was still clad in his grey jacket with a red cross shaped symbol on the sleeves; he would already face a harsh deduction on his final grade for failing to assemble in uniform. He was precicely as Squall had seen him that morning, save for the scar upon his face trailing from the bottom right to above his left eye, a direct mirror image of his own. The wound appeared slightly more shallow, no doubt from Seifer's attempt to reel himself away from the blade's strike, and was likely what had allowed him to treat the wound himself without Dr. Kadowaki's assistance. Nevertheless, it irked him to no end that the reputation the two had garnered together had now, quite literally, been etched on their faces for all to see.

"Man," he heard Zell quip to Quistis. "They're like twins now."

"Great," Seifer moaned. "I've got to deal with Zell the chicken-wuss this time?"

"What'd you call me!?"

' _All you have to do is ignore him,'_ Squall sighed inwardly. _So much for leading by example._

"Oh, and before I forget," he began as he turned to Squall and fished something out of his coat pocket. "Catch!"

Seifer tossed the object underhand to Squall, who promptly leaned forward to grab it with both hands. His eyes widened as he stared down at the small metallic sphere roughly the size of a billiard ball cupped in his palms, the emblem of SeeD prominently featured on its shell. Taking it in one hand, he depressed the twin switches situated on the top and bottom of the device with his thumb and middle finger. The two halves parted vertically by a half-inch to reveal a narrow crimson line of fiery energy blazing within.

"Figured you'd still need your training-wheels after this morning," Seifer derided him.

"Where did you-" he started, before remembering the sideswipe Seifer had made past him during the battle. The attack that had knocked him off balance, and after which he had been unable to harness the energy required to perform his fire blast for reasons unknown, until now. He had not in fact lost or misplaced his Guardian Force, nor had he faltered in conjuring its power it in the heat of battle. He had been pick-pocketed.

"That's enough." Quistis broke up the confrontation. "Like it or not, these are the teams that have been decided. You three will make up Squad 19, and will be under my jurisdiction. So please, Seifer, don't antagonize your squadmates. Remember, teamwork is of the utmost importance, and one of the most crucial criteria you'll be judged on. I really do want you to pass the exam this time."

"'Course he will!" Raijin exclaimed from his side. "Seifer's gonna clean up this time, y'know?"

"Redemption!" Fujin flatly barked, with not a word more.

"I hope your faith hasn't been misplaced," Quistis replied. "Well Seifer, you're the squad leader. Good luck to you."

"Please, _instructor_ ," he began, obvious sarcasm dripping from the title he addressed her by. "I can't stand it when people wish me luck. Save those words for a bad student that needs them, eh?"

"Okay then," she conceded, unperturbed. "Good luck, Seifer."

Zell instantly burst into a snicker, and even Squall found himself internally fighting to keep his face devoid of smug satisfaction. As he disengaged the sphere still in his hand and clipped it to the holder situated on his belt, Seifer narrowed his eyes in irritation, before turning to Fujin on his right.

"Another one for the list."

' _The list'? What's that supposed to mean?_

"Attention, cadets!" a booming voice reverberated through the hall. Squall instantly pivoted on his feet with the assembled masses to face the stage, where a Thorn stood before the microphone-equipped podium. "It is 1100 hours, and the SeeD field exam will begin henceforth. Before the operation officially commences however, the Headmaster would like to say a few words to you all."

With that, the Thorn abdicated the podium to a stout, brown-haired and middle-aged man. He was dressed in a sharp burgundy vest atop a white dress shirt and emerald tie, his face kindly and bespectacled. He reached the microphone, as every cadet and SeeD operative in the room saluted in near unison, their legs pressed together, and right arms held directly up with the open hand obscuring one's right eye.

"At ease," Headmaster Cid commanded, briefly clearing his throat, and began his address. "Good morning, everyone. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? I am happy to see you well, and expect you will all demonstrate this confidence and professionalism on the battlefield today. This year's field exam will involve a total of 225 participants, split up into 75 squads of 3. In addition, there will be an even 100 SeeDs dispatched in your stead. Should you fail, they will get the job done, as they always do. There, that should be one less worry on your minds!"

The Headmaster took a moment to chuckle at his own remark, as a stony silence enveloped the rest of the room. For the generally approachable and grounded personality he always exuded, Squall could not help but think some such comments of his to be tonally inappropriate for such grave matters.

"Regardless," he continued. "For many of you, this will be your first experience in a real, life-or-death battle. Always keep in mind the lessons and skills you have internalized at this Garden, and allow them to guide your actions in the line of fire. Remember the years you have spent training for this very day. This is your moment to prove your place among the ranks of SeeD, the elite mercenary force of Balamb Garden. Learn from them, obey their commands and accomplish the mission. I wish each and every one of you the best of luck. And with that, let the exam begin!"

Headmaster Cid bowed his head slightly as the room burst into applause, Squall joining in with the rest of his team, save for Seifer. It was true, the day of destiny had at last arrived, and he would do whatever it took to join those ranks he aspired for.

"We're to file out to the parking garage and take the transports into town," Quistis announced. "Let's move, everyone!"

She started for the ballroom doors, Zell following in her footsteps just behind. Squall began to step forward himself, when a hand gripped itself firmly on his shoulder, holding him in place.

"Listen up," a familiar voice menacingly whispered into his ear. "Teamwork means staying out of my way. It's a squad rule. Don't you forget it."


	4. Chapter 2 - Landfall

2

 **CHAPTER 2 – LANDFALL**

The short ride aboard the Garden transport had proven uneventful, perhaps the best possible scenario Squall could have asked for when considering his immediate entourage. He had sat in silence within the cold, tight confines of the armored SeeD infantry truck, packed in with the members of three other squads, and patiently bided his time until they had arrived at their destination. Despite the windowless, stainless steel interior providing no indication of the outside world, he could be entirely certain they were being shuttled to the neighboring town of Balamb, where they would transfer to the Garden sea vessels docked at the pier. From there, he knew not which land they would be bound for, nor which battlefield he would christen as his first.

Though a renowned institution where children and young adults from all across the world came to study and train for a future with SeeD, the territory in which the Garden had been established was a small island nation isolated from civilization at large. Prior to its construction and that of the winding motorway trailing west, the region surrounding the Alcaud Plains had been mostly a dense, forested plain undisturbed by man. It was likely for this very reason that the academy had been erected in such a locale, serving to offer its students an insulated and focused environment in which to thrive, while further reinforcing SeeD's mercenary nature by not aligning itself with any major world power. Since time immemorial, only a single quaint fishing town had resided by the edge of the waters, settled long ago by a guild of master fishermen in search of the rarest catch.

Squall stepped out of the back of the transport in tow with the others, his feet coming to a rest on the docks as he turned to survey his surroundings. Balamb was a peaceful seaside municipality, its numerous stout dwellings constructed of humble brick and sandstone overlooking a breathtakingly beautiful beach. In the years since its founding, tales of the uniquely delectable fish native to the region and its seasonally tropical allure had drawn the attention of many a tourist, prompting the construction of an underwater transcontinental railway connecting to Galbadia. While not directly affiliated with the presiding government, SeeD had been granted express permission to keep their vast naval fleet docked within the town limits through an agreement between the headmaster and the town mayor.

Before him, dozens of cadets and SeeDs filed out of their own armored vehicles, hurriedly making their way up and down the pier to their designated vessels. The cluster of SeeD assault boats lined one after another along the waterfront was an intimidating sight to behold, their sleek blue and red-striped bodies dazzling in the midday sun reflecting off the sea. The fleet sported large machine gun turrets situated to the fore, and a series of ingrained metallic rungs leading to a raised, domed cockpit to the aft, each housing a waiting helmeted SeeD pilot. The hydrofoils were designed for speed and nimbleness above all else, capable of exceeding 200 miles-per-hour at maximum velocity. Squall had traveled aboard one of the assault boats two years earlier as part of a training exercise, and had then more than ever before counted himself fortunate to not have been prone to seasickness.

"Talk about a commotion," Zell remarked in awe. "This is the real deal after all, isn't it?"

"Better not piss in your pants," Seifer cockily chided him.

"Hah, you talkin' to me!?"

"Knock it off, you two!" Quistis firmly interjected. "When Headmaster Cid said 'let the exam begin', he meant it started at that very moment. Keep that in mind. Don't think just because we haven't reached the battlefield yet that you're not being evaluated right now."

The two promptly ceased their confrontation, Zell's flushed expression one of clear embarrassment. Squall had suspected as much, hence the mum demeanor he had adopted for the duration of their trip to town. Being that it coincided perfectly with his own natural disposition, such restraint and discipline came effortlessly to him.

"Let's get aboard," Quistis commanded, motioning to the nearest assault boat. "It's two squads to a vessel. We'll be sharing ours with Squad 20."

The three swiftly followed her lead across the dock, Squall noting the lengthy expanse having cleared rapidly in the brief time his squadmates had spent bickering. He climbed up the boarding stairwell and through the hatch situated on the starboard side, ducking his head on the way in. The interior of the vessel was bathed a muted aquamarine, furnished by eight arm-rested seats, four on either side of a narrow rectangular center commode. On the stern side of the cabin shone a powered-on display monitor emblazoned with the Garden crest. To the bow stood a ladder extending up to the machine gun turret, beside a door leading to the infantry deployment bay at the front of the ship. In the four seats across from the party sat a squad of three cadets and their accompanying SeeD, the latter of whom Squall recognized immediately.

For what sense of celebrity Quistis' prodigy status had afforded her among the student populace, the undisputed top of the pecking order within the organization was none other than the operative who rose to her feet to greet them. Since her ascension two years earlier to the rank of commandant, head officer of SeeD and direct adviser to the headmaster himself, twenty-three year old Xu Adrastia was a figure respected and revered by many throughout Balamb Garden. A staunch tactician, expert short-sword specialist, and the only member of SeeD to date to have mastered the exceedingly rare school of holy spellcraft, hers was a position of authority well earned from more than a half-decade of service to the mercenary army. Her features, sharp and focused at virtually all times, softened as she greeted her fellow operative.

"Good to see you, Quistis," she formally greeted her junior. "I've been looking forward to seeing your first pupils in action."

"Of course," Quistis blushed modestly. "I'm positive they'll perform admirably."

"That's what I'm expecting," she responded in kind, her tone gradually returning to its usual stern timbre. " _And_ the administration, for that matter."

Instantly, Squall understood the reasoning behind his instructor's insistence that their squad maintain a professional image at all times, and the very reason why the head executive of SeeD herself had signed on to oversee the accompanying one.

 _Looks like we're not the only ones under evaluation today._

Xu turned abruptly to face Seifer, her eyes boring holes directly through his.

"We're not going to have any more _mishaps_ this time around, are we?"

"Commandant, whatever could you mean?" he feigned innocence. "I only perform as is most beneficial to the success of the operation."

"I'll be the judge of that," she threatened him, before swiveling her gaze to the three cadets seated beside her. "Squad 20, ten-hut!"

The three stood in unison, snapping into the SeeD salute on command and stating their titles one after another.

"Aaron Writ, dragoon, first class," the first recited, a retractable steel-plated javelin strapped to his back.

"Randall Eversberg, machine-gunner, second class," spoke the second, his weapon of choice hanging from his figure by a thick shoulder sling, forming an X across his chest in tandem with his ammunition bandolier.

"Nida Emmerich, vehicle specialist and medic, first class," the last introduced himself, bearing no obvious arms about him besides a single standard pistol.

Squall promptly took the hint and followed suit, Zell and Seifer in tow right behind him.

"Squall Leonhart, gunblade specialist, first class."

"Zell Dincht, tech specialist and CQC, first class."

"Seifer Almasy, the _real_ gunblade specialist, first class."

The commandant's request satisfied, the six cadets and Quistis took their seats as the vessel jerked to life and began to move beneath their feet, gradually picking up speed at an alarming rate. Despite the increasing intensity of the bobbing upon the waves as seconds ticked by, Xu maintained expert balance as she strode over to the monitor affixed to the rear. She retrieved a small remote control from her breast pocket and clicked it. The crest of Balamb Garden upon the screen slowly faded away, to be replaced by a digital overhead rendering detailing their position to the southwest of Balamb Island and the upward-arching trajectory they would take to their destination. They appeared to be en route west across the ocean to the upper eastern-most shore of the neighboring Galbadian continent. Calling upon his latent geographical knowledge, Squall determined that it was all but certainly the last remaining independent nation left on its soil, speaking volumes in and of itself as to the enemy they would face upon arrival.

"I will now explain the current situation and the mission objective," Xu announced. "Our client for this mission is the Dollet Dukedom Parliament. I would assume you have all been diligent in your expected duty of keeping on top of current global politics, and so will skip the history lesson. Seventy-two hours ago, the city of Dollet came under attack by Galbadia via naval invasion, and has reportedly suffered grave casualties. Forty-nine hours into the battle, the Dollet infantry were forced to abandon their position in the inner city and retreat into the western mountain range. The Parliament has been evacuated along with most of the surviving civilians, and are currently en route to a designated extraction point further north along the coast.

"As of our last contact, the Galbadian forces have begun advancing into the mountains to mop up the remainder of the troops. This will serve as our opening for a pincer attack. While the Galbadian infantry continues their advance, we will make our landing at Lapin Beach, and eliminate the remaining forces occupying the city. Once it has been fully liberated, you will be on standby until further notice. The SeeD operatives on hand will intercept any enemy forces attempting to make their way back into the city from the mountain region. Questions?"

"Sounds like we're using the Dollet soldiers as bait." Zell quipped.

"It's their own fault for turning tail and running as soon as things got rough," Seifer cockily smarmed. "So what are _we_ specifically supposed to do?"

"Squad 19 will be assigned to liberating and securing the Aurora Square to the west end of the city. Squad 20, your objective will be to search for and shut down the communication cable lines the Galbadians are utilizing."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Aaron, who appeared to be the captain of the three man-squad.

"Wow, sounds important!" Zell exclaimed.

"Sounds boring," Seifer corrected. "What it means is that we're getting the dirty grunt work, while the SeeDs get to have all the fun up in the mountains."

"I'd hardly call it 'fun'" the boy named Nida chimed in. "We all have our own unique roles to play in making sure this operation is a success. Just because we aren't on the front-lines, it doesn't make our own objectives any less important to the mission, and I don't think you should just dismiss it as such."

"Speak for yourself, kid. And _never_ try to tell me what I should think."

Squall had no knowledge of the exact grading scale utilized for the annual field examination. Between his disregard for the mandatory dress code and the blatant disrespect shown to both his own squad and others thus far, he could only imagine Seifer's standing to have already dipped to precarious levels.

"Also," Xu began once again. "It hardly needs to be said, but the order to withdraw takes priority above all else. And it will be in Dollet territory time, not Balamb, so do not forget to set your watches back appropriately. It will be about four hours from now by the time we arrive, but we anticipate combat the moment we make landfall. Make your final preparations now. That is all."

The commandant maneuvered through the aisle to the front of the cabin and exited through the steel door to the bow, leaving the seven to their own devices as they awaited the oncoming assault.

"Well," Quistis sighed, evidently disheartened. "This is it. We're already well past the point of no return. It may be an exam in name, but never forget that this is a real life-or-death battle. Some cadets don't make it back from these operations. Absolute focus is paramount for survival. So, if any of you have something you need to get off of your minds, speak now or forever hold your peace."

The on-board briefing room was enveloped by silence, save for the omnipresent humming of the assault boat's engine and the sound of the ocean being torn asunder as it careened across the waves toward their destination. Squall was ready; should he fall on the battlefield this day, it would be a deserved death for failing to have trained rigorously enough. He had no worldly attachments, no family to mourn his passing, and no regrets to hold him back. His was a mind set perfectly in order for the fast approaching confrontation, with not a single lingering question left to sway his conscience. None save for one innocuous mystery that had presented itself to him that very morning.

"Instructor," he finally spoke up, Quistis meeting his gaze at once from across the commode. "When I came to this morning... there was a girl in the infirmary, wearing a shawl around her. She left just before you came in. Do you know who she was?"

Quistis averted her eyes from Squall's, bringing her hand up to her chin in puzzlement, furrowing her brows as she reflected.

"I don't _think_ there was anyone else there this morning... or at least I didn't see anyone. Is there something wrong?"

Squall bowed his head in defeat, beginning to consider whether the entire ordeal had been a figment of his haze stricken imagination. It was a possibility swiftly discounted upon his recollection of Dr. Kadowaki mentioning she had let his 'friend' in to see him, despite that as far as Squall himself was aware, he had no friends. It was an enigma he knew he could not possibly begin to start piecing together with what little he had to work with, just as he knew this was not the time to allow such trivial matters to occupy a place in his mental faculties.

"No," he conceded. "It's nothing."

"This is just perfect," Seifer chuckled to himself from further down the aisle. "I've got the chicken-wuss _and_ a guy who just reached puberty in my squad."

Squall did not raise his head in acknowledgement of the insult, able to imagine perfectly the look of barely restrained anger adorning Zell's face. It took little more to predict the one of disappointment and irritation that Quistis would be wearing, and that of confusion and perhaps even amusement between the members of Squad 20. What his mind struggled to imagine was the possibility of there being a single other squad of such a dysfunctional disposition registered for this mission. If there were any solitary force of nature that would obstruct him from achieving his dream this day, it would not be the strength and numbers of the Galbadian military, but his own fragmented retinue.

"Anyway, it's feeling a bit cramped in here, and I'd say we need a lookout up top. Squall, climb up to the turret and keep watch."

Squall raised his head to meet the sneering, scarred face of his rival, knowing full-well this to be little more than a blatant exploitation of his newfound power.

"The commandant said we won't be there for four hours," he attempted to reason with him. "What possible purpose would a lookout serve right now?"

"This is an order from your _captain_ , Squall," Seifer snarled in self-righteousness. "Now do as you're told!"

Squall's gaze flitted from his squad leader, to Zell, Quistis, the onlooking accompanying group and back. Though the expressions of all gathered in his midst assured him that this was nothing but boorish hazing at it's finest, he understood the unfavorable picture it would paint for him to show such disobedience from the outset. Whatever his personal objections, he had been placed under the command of this egotistical renegade until the exam concluded, and needed to play the part if he were to receive a passing evaluation.

"Understood," he grunted as he rose to his feet and navigated around Zell's legs toward the ladder on the fore wall. His passage was quickly impeded as Seifer abruptly kicked his leg up on the commode, blocking him from progressing forward.

"Is that how you address your superior, soldier?"

"Understood, _sir_ ," he rephrased through gritted teeth.

"Now that's more like it," he taunted, lowering his leg. "Know your place, scrub."

 _This is going to be the longest exam of my life…_

* * *

The Holy Dollet Empire had been first established more than four millennia ago by settlers emigrating from their southern homeland of Centra. With the long passage of time, bringing new advancements in the realms of agriculture and technology alike, it had steadily risen from its humble beginnings to become a major world-power to rival its forerunner. Before long, the new regime had come to conquer the full lay of the western continent, ushering together the land and its people under one flag. Following a storied historical period of internal political strife and separatist revolt however, the same nation which had blossomed into existence through severance from another had in a cruel twist of irony become fragmented itself, descending into a long civil war between smaller nation states, each vying for dominance. And so, the once unified empire became a land divided, the remaining loyalist territory reduced in stature to a mere dukedom.

Twenty years earlier, the prominent nation state of Galbadia had appointed sitting president Vinzer Deling as its life-long ruler. On the cusp of a long and bloody war with the eastern world-power of Esthar, he had decreed the scattered territories be reunified once more under a single banner, by force if necessary. So had begun the enduring conquest of Galbadia, expanding its reach ever further across the land until it had all but swallowed the entire continent. The last remnant of Dollet's legacy, the seaside former capital city which still bore its name, was now all that remained. Its estrangement from the newfound Galbadian Empire existed on conditions both ideological and geographical, the latter by way of the Hasberry mountain range which obstructed its connection with the land. The presence of such a far-reaching, natural impediment, coupled with the impracticality of aircraft in an age of worldwide wireless communications interference, left the sea as the only reasonable manner by which to deploy an invading army.

As the fleet of SeeD assault boats drew nearer in the sinking afternoon sun, the city ahead rapidly came into Squall's view, as did the plated enemy ships left beached on the shore. Their method of engagement was clear: a swift and forceful charge onto the battlefield, not allowing the enemy any opportunity to establish a proper line of defense to their rear. With a furious, full-frontal rush up the beach-side and into the city proper, the Galbadian infantry would be sent scrambling to regroup, opening the way for their counter offensive to retake the besieged capital. He manned the turret, scanning the quickly approaching coast through the holographic aiming reticle, ready to open fire at a moment's notice. Seconds passed as minutes, Squall feeling the raging adrenaline begin to fire through his nerves, and only just managing to steady his grip upon the metal chassis. His first true battle had arrived, the one which would shape the course of his future at Balamb Garden. He took aim, and as the first shots from the surrounding vessels roared across the waves, he pulled the triggers.

The rapid-fire shaking from the stationary turret was tremendous, and would very likely have proven too much for a less experienced soldier. For Squall, whose primary weapon's effectiveness relied almost entirely on the wielder's ability to compensate for the resultant recoil, it was nothing beyond his capability to handle. A swarm of specially-manufactured, anti-artillery rounds flew across the rapidly closing divide, tearing through the hulls of the enemy vessels and quickly sending several sky high in as many smoldering pyres of flame and shrapnel. On the small ridge of the city overlooking the waterfront, dozens of helmeted soldiers armored in blue and silver frantically dispersed in all directions, only to be gunned down just as quickly by the front-most hydrofoils which had already reached the shore.

Squall's own assault boat began to gradually slow as it drew near, the deceleration becoming ever more rapid as the underside finally hit solid ground and slid to a halt. He tightly grabbed hold of circular safety railing to steady himself against the sudden jerking of the vessel, and peered over the front to see the deployment bay below open with a loud mechanical hiss. The members and advisers of Squads 19 and 20 spilled out onto the sand moments later, weapons drawn and prepared to move out. Shifting his eyes back and forth along the seashore to either side, he noted that more than a dozen other squads had already deployed, firearms and spells alike blazing as they surged up the adjacent incline. Other cadets had remained stationed to their turrets, mowing down soldier after soldier upon the ridge to clear the way. Squall had never taken pleasure in the prospect that he would one day be forced to take the lives of other humans in the line of duty, but understood that such was the reality of serving a military organization. The knowledge that the Galbadians would offer him no such mercy in turn afforded him contentment enough to act as instructed.

"C'mon, Squall!" Zell's voice called to him from down on the shore below. "Let's get a move on!"

His senses jogged back to the moment at hand, Squall hoisted himself over the safety railing and slid down the ship's hull, landing on the sand with a thud by Seifer's side. Quistis and the boy with spiked blonde hair stood opposite them, with nary a trace of Commandant Xu and her squad in immediate sight.

"Squad 19, we're to secure the Aurora Square at once!" Quistis barked to her subordinates over the roar of gunfire. "I will provide support as necessary until we arrive, but I'm leaving the brunt of the fighting up to you three. This is your chance to show what you're made of!"

"That's the best news I've heard all day!" Seifer boasted, swiping his gunblade before him and bringing it to a halt pointed vertically upward in front of his face.

As opposed to Squall's revolver-styled variant, Seifer's 'Hyperion'-class gunblade was of a lighter and more nimble persuasion, designed to be wielded with one hand rather than two. Its color scheme was a dark ebony, the hilt that of a semi-automatic pistol and thus utilizing proper ammunition cartridges for reloading. While its significantly more compact design correctly implied that it could not hope to boast the sheer power of Squall's, in terms of speed and accuracy it was by far the more balanced of the two. Naturally however, it was ultimately not the weapon itself, but its wielder that made all the difference, and as Squall had experienced firsthand on innumerable occasions, the manner in which Seifer fought more than made up for any potential shortcomings.

"Forward!" he commanded, charging ahead into the ensuing skirmish without bothering to wait for his squadmates.

Squall, Zell and Quistis quickly hurried after, the SeeD among them having finally withdrawn her signature metallic whip for self-defense. Her prowess with the weapon bordered on legend among the student body, the very exemplar of ferocity and grace beautifully intertwined. Squall himself had borne witness to her skill a number of times over the years, both during her cadet days and in the time since she had become his de-facto instructor, and could attest she was indeed rivaled by few. For what unspoken animus he had always held towards her, he could never deny her prodigious reputation to be anything but justly deserved.

The group of four ascended the nearby stairs carved into the inclined stone outcropping, rising to meet a grand brick archway leading down a desecrated and war-torn stretch of road. Small craters peppered the cobbled pavement, many no doubt remnants from the initial invasionary assault three days earlier. The incessant clatter of gunfire and roar of explosions erupted from every direction, as soldiers and cadets on either side exchanged fire from behind the edifices of ruined buildings and totaled vehicles. The suffocating scents of acrid dust and smog wafted on the air, having long extinguished any trace of the familiar beach-side aroma. Fallen bodies of combatants and citizenry alike littered the street-sides, carelessly strewn vestiges of a bloody crossfire left to decorate the macabre battlefield for yet another.

Momentarily falling behind cover from the firefight with his entourage, Squall reached down with his right hand to switch the sphere clipped to his belt into active mode. He instinctively drew his gunblade from its sheath as the two halves of the device drew apart ever so slightly to allow the contained power within free reign. He began to focus his mind just as he had trained, willing the energy field he harnessed to materialize around his figure. On command, a translucent protective barrier erected itself before him, fading away from sight as quickly as it had appeared. His preparations complete, he rounded the corner of the fallen column he and his squad had huddled behind and roared ahead into the fray. He did not slow in the face of the oncoming bullets of the opposing infantry, each projectile harmlessly pinging off of his freshly conjured energy shield and embedding itself in the pavement around his feet. He cleared the divide in seconds, bringing his weapon down upon the first soldier he crossed paths with and pulling the trigger. The armored grunt toppled from his legs instantly, nearly cleaved in two from the force of the brutal strike. Not allowing himself the opportunity for the emotional response of his first confirmed kill to take root, he wasted no time turning his attention to the next, cutting down foe after foe in one long string of bloodshed.

Seifer and Zell fell in thereafter, the former appearing as a demon as he fiendishly sliced through his own share of infantrymen in rapid succession. The latter of the two blonde men had called upon his own Guardian Force's power to summon a protective barrier as Squall had, the high velocity rounds coming not within a foot of his deftly maneuvering figure. His gloved fists had been encased in gauntlets of conjured stone to further enhance his already formidable physical prowess; with each thundering blow another soldier's body flew across the expanse, what few that did not pass out immediately simply unable to raise themselves back up. The battle raged on in the company of several additional squads, their own spells of nearly every conceivable elemental nature soaring through the air. Brick and mortar detonated and scattered with each impact on the vacated residences, as yet thicker smog began to roll onto the battlefield in their wake. Fully absorbed in the midst of the surrounding slaughter as he was, it was only as the Galbadian infantry before him began their retreat that Squall realized the fog to have been artificially induced.

Straining his eyes to peer through the all-encompassing obscurity, he noted the outline of no less than a half-dozen smoke grenades lining the surface of the road. The dankness progressively condensed, to the point where before long he could barely make out his own hand in front of his face. At once, a swirling of high-speed air reached his ears, followed by a sudden gust of wind from behind whipping along the street ahead. He quickly thrust his gunblade into the ruined terrain below to steady his footing against the harsh breeze, noting his field of vision to have been completely cleared by the blast.

"We've got 'em on the run!" a triumphant voice called out over the dying gale, answered the very next moment by a chorus of cheers. "Keep pushing forward!"

"Hey!" Seifer shouted as he began yet another reckless charge. "All you Galbadian cowards out there! Come out and show your faces! Don't leave me hanging now!"

"What an idiot," Zell commented as several fellow cadet squads began their own advance into the town, while others scurried down the numerous branching alleyways to either side.

"At least he's got the fighting spirit," Quistis chimed in from behind. "The Aurora Square should be just a bit further up ahead, regardless. Let's get moving."

The three tailed their brash squad captain through the maze of winding and demolished streets, side-stepping and surmounting all manner of wreckage in their path. An increasing amount of green-clad Dollet infantry corpses lay awkwardly among the series of overturned cars and broken streetlamps, painting a horrific trail of carnage leading onward to their assigned post. It had evidently been a sustained and bloody battle fought over the last several days, and one the governing parliament had clearly not been prepared for. The tragedy that had resulted from their complacency was not lost on Squall, nor was the grief and sadness the surviving townspeople would be forced to live with henceforth. Nevertheless, his duty to defend the city and its people extended only so far as their contract deigned it so. It was not his place to question the validity or moral righteousness of the mission, merely to carry it out. Had Galbadia been the faction to have hired SeeD to assist in the confrontation, he would have followed his orders to reinforce the invasionary battalions. A mercenary did not take sides, save for the one that provided him payment.

The group continued to make their way along the network of devastated roads, until at last their overeager squad leader came into view once more. He rested with his figure pressed to the side of another arched entryway, peering stealthily around the corner into the large circular plaza on the other side. A fountain sculpted in the image of a beautiful woman occupied the center, the pavement surrounding its basin spreading out in the design of a compass. Clustered by its side, a platoon of four soldiers dutifully stood guard, their collective attention trained to the adjacent hotel and restaurant situated on the perimeter's opposite end.

"Allow me," Zell quipped as the three reached Seifer's side, drawing back his right arm and forcefully slamming his studded knuckles upon the ground.

A miniature fault-line erupted from the spot he had struck, a deep crevice tearing the terrain asunder as it sped forward at a frightening pace in the direction of the unsuspecting infantrymen. Their heads swiveled in unison to face the source of the fast approaching rumble, only for each to cry out in surprise as it roared beneath their feet. A sudden upsurge of raw energy violently erupted from the tremor, rendering the foursome momentarily airborne before plummeting back to earth moments later, collapsing upon the overturned tables and chairs lining the outdoor dining area of the abandoned restaurant.

"Leave some for the rest of us, why don't you?" Seifer chided Zell as he lifted his fist from the cobbled pavement. Squall paid the freshly brewing quarrel little mind, crossing the divide hastily to ensure the soldiers had indeed been summarily incapacitated.

"It was a smart and effective way of clearing out a closely packed-together squad," Quistis commented, following after him. "Excellent control of the energy as well, to have avoided destroying the fountain in the process. Very impressive, Zell."

"Aw, it's nothin', Instructor," he modestly accepted the praise, as he fell in beside Squall to begin checking over the downed infantry. All four appeared to have been knocked out from the sudden blast, though still drew breath but faintly.

"Guess I'll do the honors this time," Seifer snarled, remorselessly raising his gunblade high above the head of the nearest soldier. Squall thrust his own forward to block the strike in mid-swing, the familiar clash of steel ringing out as the two met.

"It would be more prudent to see if we can get any information out of them once they wake up," Squall suggested. "Maybe we'd get a better idea of what their battle plan is."

"I thought I told you to know your place," he growled maliciously, their blades audibly grinding against one another as he continued to exert further weight into his halted strike.

"And I would think any decent captain would consider what his squadmates have to say," Quistis sternly interjected, her brow furrowed in disapproval. "I'm not going to tell you how to lead your team, but keep in mind that this all-for-one attitude of yours isn't going to reflect well on your final grade."

Squall sensed the mounting tension in the air as he continued to hold the blade aloft, arduously fighting back against the Hyperion's pressure all the while. Finally, Seifer lifted the blade with a grunt of dissatisfaction, his expression showing unmistakable irritation.

"Tie them up," he spoke in an emotionless monotone.

On command, Squall sheathed his blade, and began to assist his squadmate in moving the unconscious soldiers together, their backs pressed up against one another in a circle. Having performed a final check of their outfitting to ensure no lingering weapons had been left unaccounted for, Zell briefly fumbled about his waist for his supply pouch, soon procuring a grappling cable from its confines, and bound the four tightly together. Though the relentless thundering of gunfire and explosions continued to echo on the air from afar, that they had managed to clear their designated mission area with such relative ease offered Squall ample solace.

"Well, I believe this is where we part ways," Quistis began, the two cadets rising to their feet from having secured their captives. "I'm off to join the rest of the SeeD detachment in the mountains. You're officially on standby here until the withdrawal order comes."

"Yes, ma'am," Zell saluted, Squall mimicking his motions a split-second later. Seifer made no such effort to stand on formality, returning his gunblade to the inside of his coat without a word as their superior took off down the adjoining street.

"Standby," he moaned, kicking excess gravel produced by the tremor aside. "How boring..."

* * *

More than an hour had passed since Squad 19 had secured the Aurora Square, the surrounding establishments casting lengthy shadows in the slowly descending afternoon sun. Having sighted neither head nor hair of the Galbadian forces following their incapacitation of the stationed patrol, Squall had taken to polishing his gunblade out of sheer boredom. Seifer sat in silence on the edge of the fountain's wide basin, his head bowed as the perpetual white noise of the trickling water enveloped him. Zell, seemingly desperate to keep himself sufficiently entertained in the midst of it all, had taken to utilizing his Guardian Force to conjure a set of four earthen juggling balls, ceaselessly keeping the spherical masses of soil within their established rhythm by the nearby cafe. To his side slumped the bound and still unconscious Galbadian infantrymen, providing no disturbance to the relatively serene, if visibly war-torn backdrop. The occasional burst of gunfire would continue to erupt from the mountain range in the distance, albeit at an increasingly more sporadic rate; the battle appeared to be winding down to its inevitable conclusion in far less time than Squall had anticipated.

He stood with his back propped up against the brick archway through which they had entered the square, gazing once more at the reflection of his newfound scar on the now immaculately polished blade before him. In retrospect, he could not help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the reality of what had amounted to his first real battle. After so many years spent training for this very day, so many weeks fraught with building anticipation, for the confrontation to have drawn to an effective standstill in such a quick time-frame was immensely underwhelming. He understood that such petty grievances could not be allowed to hold bearing on the work ethic of a professional, and that he ought to instead take pride in the efforts of his fellow cadets for ensuring the operation had gone off without complications. Despite his better judgment however, he could not shake the feeling of emptiness that had taken up residence in his gut.

 _At least I'll probably pass without any issues…_

"Aw, damn!" Zell exclaimed as the makeshift juggling balls both within his clutches and in mid-air simultaneously crumbled and rapidly dissipated into the ether. "I can never sustain 'em for more than two minutes at a time!"

"You're not supposed to be using it as a toy," Squall chastised him, his annoyance growing in tandem with his restlessness.

"You shouldn't be using it at _all_ ," Seifer corrected, raising his bowed head to meet both their stares in turn. "At least not if you have any self-respect. A real man relies on his own strength to face down his enemies."

"Unless he fancies himself a pickpocket," Squall shot back, irritably sliding his gunblade back into its sheath with a loud metallic clink.

"What, you're still hung up on that?" he smirked, his striking blue eyes glimmering with derision. "That was just a lesson someone needed to teach you. And you'll thank me for it when the time comes."

"I just don't get you, Seifer," Zell intervened, his arms crossed in puzzlement. "You _have_ your own GF. You passed the certification to get it, and yet you refuse to use it? That makes no sense at all."

"It makes _perfect_ sense," he retorted, reaching his hand into his coat pocket and withdrawing his own metallic sphere for the two to see. " _If_ you ever cared to stop and think for even a minute. These things might allow you to demolish your average enemy with ease, but at the end of the day it's not _your_ power. It's the power we've been given the _privilege_ of wielding, and been encouraged to depend on like a crutch to fight our battles for us. And like any privilege, it can be revoked at any time if the people in charge are of a mind to put the screws to you. And what are you left with then?"

Seifer allowed the question to linger in the air for a number of moments before sliding the sphere back into his jacket once more.

"Relying on charity to fight your battles for you will only get you so far, especially when that power can just as easily be taken away. The only thing in this world you can depend on is your own strength and skill as a fighter. That's something _no one_ can take away from you."

He shifted his gaze back to Squall, the piercing stare seeming to probe the very depths of his soul.

"You of all people should know this. If being completely self-reliant really is what you're after."

Squall had no response to the assertion posed by his rival, as he clutched at the sphere attached to his belt in frustration. Guardian Forces were a powerful, independent energy force contained within a specialized metallic-alloy casing. Expressly designed to be utilized in the field by Garden operatives, the switches situated on the top and bottom of the sphere when depressed simultaneously would allow the covering to part vertically by half an inch, providing enough leeway for a very precise amount of energy to seep out and intermingle with that of any living creature in its immediate vicinity. With proper mental and physiological training, one could learn to harness the mysterious power to perform what could only be described as 'magic' of various elements and styles, with advanced users able to fully materialize it in the form of a fully functioning apparition to command in battle. The focus and stamina required to sustain a summoning typically resulted in extreme exhaustion, to speak nothing of the widespread destruction that could easily be wrought if left unchecked, and as such was deemed to be a method of last resort only. The true nature of what the energy in fact consisted of, as well as the manufacturing process and inner workings of the devices themselves were a staunchly kept secret from all. Each bore the inverted black and white symbol of SeeD on its outer shell, an indication that they were produced solely for distribution to the mercenary army of Balamb Garden. It was an ace in the hole that could not be matched by any conventionally equipped military force, and the true source of SeeD's world-renowned prestige.

Cadets were first given the opportunity to apply for the GF certification test at the age of fourteen, whereby they would undergo rigorous instruction to prove themselves a suitable candidate to be allotted one. As with the annual SeeD field exam, Balamb Garden remained the sole institute to offer training with Guardian Forces, leaving transferring students from Galbadia and Trabia Gardens at a severe disadvantage from the outset. It was all but expected of foreign arrivals relocating to Balamb to take a year-long sabbatical to pass the certification and familiarize themselves with their new weaponry. It had been for this very reason that Squall had found himself so taken aback by the ditzy transfer student from Trabia having signed up for the exam before having received one for herself. For anyone other than Seifer, the notion of heading into battle without one bordered on suicidal. Despite his disparaging words however, Squall had never before felt shame in relying on his own; as far as he was concerned, it was little more than another weapon in his arsenal, much like his gunblade.

"Seems like a real waste, if you ask me," Zell scoffed at Seifer's stubborn declaration. "As long as we've got this power, I don't see what the big deal with putting it to use is. Thanks to it, any one of us can become as powerful as any sorceress who ever lived!"

"If such a thing ever really existed," Squall shot down his lofty aspirations; he was a man concerned with facts and truth above all else, having developed little patience to entertain fairy-tales in his learned age.

"What d'ya mean?" Zell questioned him in disbelief.

"I mean those are just old stories passed down through the ages. Ones used to rally people on literal witch-hunts."

"Oh, come on!" he moaned in frustration, unclipping his Guardian Force from his belt and bringing it up before him. "What more proof d'ya need? You realize these things are made in Esthar, right? And you _know_ what Esthar is infamous for."

"And did you ever consider maybe that's all there ever was to the story?" Squall bluntly countered. "Think about it: a lower noble with the right connections suddenly claims to be a sorceress, and uses the first one of these ever developed to 'prove' her power to the world. She then takes the throne by force and has everyone in the government who would know of its existence executed to cover up the truth. It's the perfect con, and the perfect way to strike fear into your people and enemies alike."

"That's..." Zell trailed off in a deflated tone, unable to counter the reasoned explanation. He clipped his sphere back to his belt, his head hung in disappointment.

"It's the most logical explanation," Squall affirmed. "I don't have a clue what kind of energy these things are made of, but as far as those old legends go, I'm positive they're just that."

"Will you two just shut it, already?" Seifer growled, his temper appearing to have boiled over at last. He swiftly rose to his feet and thrust his gunblade to the sky in agitation.

"I'm so sick of waiting around here! Give me some _action_!"

Squall opened his mouth to tell him to calm himself, when the squad leader's roar was promptly answered by a weary and agonized moan. He quickly shifted his gaze in unison with the rest of his group to Zell's side, to discover that one of the bound infantrymen had been roused from his slumber, slowly bobbing his head in a daze as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Squall instantly shot from the wall just as Seifer leaped to his feet, taking care to avoid stumbling over the miniature gorge ingrained into the pavement from Zell's earlier strike. The blonde-haired boy crouched down and firmly gripped the soldier's helmet, holding his head in place for interrogation.

"Keep quiet and do as we say," Squall commanded the disoriented trooper. "And you and your friends won't have to suffer any more than you have."

"What he said," Zell reiterated. "Screaming for help won't do you any good. No one's coming to save you."

The soldier remained silent for a number of seconds, his eyes masked behind the silver-plated visor he wore, leaving only his mouth and the lower half of his nose visible. Soon enough, the lightly pursed lips formed a sarcastic smirk.

"Of course, no one's coming," he responded in a haggard and hoarse voice. "They've got more important things to take care of."

"Like what?" Seifer demanded, disengaging the safety on his gunblade with a distinct click. "Go on, your secrets are safe with us. I _promise_."

Squall knelt down before the captive soldier, staring him directly where his eyes would be.

"Tell us what your objective here is. What are you planning? Keep in mind, _he's_ got a much shorter fuse than I do, so I suggest you be quick about it."

The captive once again fell silent, internally deliberating over the threat, before he spoke again.

"Taking control of the city was never the real objective of this attack. Just a means to push through and secure the tower."

"The 'tower'?" Squall echoed, mystified as to what he could possibly be referring to.

"You mean the old abandoned communications tower up in the mountains?" Zell asked with a hint of comprehension.

"That's the one," the soldier confirmed. "We were assigned to hold the town while the major and his men made their way up to capture and repair it."

"Radio wave broadcasts haven't been used in seventeen years," Squall stated matter-of-factly. "Why go to all this trouble for obsolete technology?"

"Hell if I know. But supposedly these orders came down from Deling himself. Whatever the reason, he wants that tower up and running ASAP. That's all I've got."

"Your candor is appreciated," Seifer sneered, marching over to his side. "And for that, you deserve a nice long rest."

Without warning, he brought his elbow thundering down upon the soldier's head, violently jerking his neck downward with a gag as Zell quickly pulled his hand away in surprise. The captive had been rendered unconscious once more, Squall recognizing he was extremely fortunate not to have had his neck snapped from the sudden blow.

"D'ya think he was telling the truth?" Zell pondered aloud.

"It _would_ explain why there haven't been any reinforcements for so long," Squall remarked. "But it doesn't make any sense why they would be after that tower."

"Screw trying to make sense of it!" Seifer barked, swiping his gunblade in satisfaction. "We've got a new objective. Let's move out!"

" _Excuse me_!?" Zell spluttered in disbelief. "Instructor Trepe ordered us to stay here and protect the square! Are you _trying_ to fail this exam!?"

"You heard him, there's no one coming to take this city back. We're just wasting our time here, when we could be up there putting a stop to their _real_ mission! And besides, don't tell me you haven't been feeling the boredom just sitting around here. I've got to keep my skills sharpened when I can."

"But..." he began, the uncertainty and anxiousness in his voice unmistakable as he turned to face his remaining squadmate for assistance. "Squall?"

He understood perfectly that abandoning their post would constitute a critical breach of conduct, and likely warrant him a failing mark for the exam in spite of an otherwise potentially flawless performance. And yet now, knowing the enemy's objective and failing to act on the information they had acquired seemed a truly irresponsible course of action, if not entirely unethical for the sake of their fellow comrades. To their knowledge, they were the only ones aware, and could potentially do far more service for the mission in disobedience than deference. Likewise, Squall had come to find himself strangely sympathetic to Seifer's restlessness, knowing he too would be thankful for a reprieve from the all-encompassing sluggishness of the last hour, to speak nothing of the mind-numbing four he had been coerced into spending as a lookout atop the assault boat.

"I stand by the captain's decision," he finally spoke, his back turned to the two of them with his arms crossed.

" _Captain's_ decision?" Seifer repeated, his curiosity clearly piqued.

For as much as knew himself to be inextricably bound by the established chain of command, Squall found himself forced to admit that his assigned squad leader had presented as sound a reasoning for desertion as any. Footsteps clacked on the cobbled pavement behind him before a hand abruptly landed on his shoulder.

"Oh, I see," he joshed him, shaking him roughly yet playfully. "You're looking to wreak some havoc _too_ , aren't you?"

Squall viciously swatted his hand away at once, turning to look his commanding officer in the face with the most intimidating scowl he could muster.

"You have a point about putting a stop to their real mission," he growled. "And besides that, it's a good opportunity to test out my training. Thanks to you, I feel like I can take on anyone, even if they do fight dirty, like you."

The two stood locked in a silent stare down for what seemed like ages, both not breaking eye contact until the group's self-appointed voice of reason took it upon himself to step between the two.

"Uh, I hate to interrupt guys," Zell began. "But you both _seriously_ need to cool it and be realistic here! This isn't any ordinary battle. It's an exam, and a really important one. I'm telling you both, we _have_ to stick to orders!"

"Then you can stay here and babysit!" Seifer roared, turning with a whip of his grey coat. "To the summit!"

Squall fell in as commanded, fully aware of the self-destructive ramifications it would all but certainly have upon his standing. There could be no hope for recovery from such gross insubordination, regardless of any benefit they would provide to the success of the mission in their transgression.

 _I guess I'll try again next year…_

"Hey!" Zell called from behind. "You guys can't be serious! Will you just… damn it, wait for me!"


	5. Chapter 3 - Dereliction of Duty

3

 **CHAPTER 3 – DERELICTION OF DUTY**

Squad 19 continued their long hike up the Hasberry mountain range in silence, keeping low to the ground at all times and using what underbrush and rock formations they encountered to their advantage. The trek through the west end city streets from the Aurora Square had been a surprisingly uneventful one, the group having managed not to run across any remaining enemy platoons, nor been impeded by any fellow cadet squadrons. The only abiding hindrance to slow them had come by way of the increasingly ravaged and ruined roadways, left in the wake of a forceful push by the Galbadian army toward their newly deduced destination. After a span of no more than ten minutes, they had come to a wide stone bridge arching over a raging waterway, the waves far below ceaselessly crashing on the sturdy support pillars. Sweeping his gaze across either side of the canal, Squall had noted it to be one of roughly a dozen such man-made walkways extending from the city to the towering mountains, now visibly war-torn with large chunks missing from its architecture. The three had slunk across the bridge steadily, the sounds of gunfire continuing to echo in the distance all the while, and before long had reached the other side to begin their ascent.

The terrain beneath Squall's feet was rough and uneven, slowing their climb to a painfully drudging pace. More so than any physical discomfort his legs bore, his true grief lay in the knowledge that an easier alternative did in fact exist. A series of clear-cut footpaths branched off in every conceivable direction across the range, comprised of stairs long ago sculpted from the stone for the convenience of travelers. While taking the narrow yet clearly defined road leading to the summit would have proven far less strenuous on the group's legs, it provided scant cover from potential snipers and would only serve to further increase their chances of being discovered. Whether it were by the Galbadians or SeeD, any encounter would completely destroy their crucial element of surprise.

In the interest of a more subtle approach, the squad had instead opted to cut their own path up the mountain, as arduous and tedious a journey it presented them. They surmounted boulders, sliced their way through tangled weeds, stumbled and fell to their knees innumerable times as they fought against the upward incline, and yet continued to push forward using the twisting direction of the trail as a guideline. It quite literally took Squall's breath away, winding him far more than even the most intensive cardio exercise routines he had undertaken at the Garden. Before long, he had begun to reconsider if accompanying Seifer in his desertion were indeed a cause worthy of such extraneous struggle, and if it would be a better idea to return to his post at once to salvage what remained of his chances at passing the exam.

 _We're already more than halfway up, and I'm thinking of climbing all the way back down?_

He snapped himself back to reality and soldiered on despite the rapidly accumulating fatigue, wondering all the while what need the Galbadian army could possibly have for the derelict tower. With the abrupt end of the so-called Sorceress War seventeen years prior, a strange and all-encompassing radio interference had suddenly swept across the airwaves, rendering all manner of long form wireless communication nearly impossible. Brief burst transmission across very short distances could still be effective, if significantly garbled, but otherwise the inexplicable white noise that plagued every frequency had at once made radio waves an obsolete method of communication, while also laying waste to any potential usage of conventional aircraft in the modern age. In the years since, the nations of the world had begun a lengthy transitional period in the realm of communications technology, before settling on newly installed underground HD cables running from point to point for data transmission. While an effective alternative, the sum of the network was still largely in its infancy, and yet to reach complete inter-connectivity across the globe. As as result, there still remained many portions of the world with no means of communicating with one another aside from old-fashioned mail delivery. It seemed a waste of perfectly good resources to deploy an army for the sole purpose of capturing an essentially worthless facility; surely there had to be a reason, but what that was Squall could not even begin to guess.

As they neared the peak, the ever obstructive thicket of high grass began to thin, the remainder of the climb appearing leisurely by comparison. Merely an assortment of small rocks were left to traverse before they came to the summit, the figure of the rusting synthetic tower already looming high above immediately before them, shimmering in the fast setting sun. Turning his eyes away and glancing north, Squall could still make out the sounds of gunfire sporadically erupting from the neighboring bluffs. The Galbadian forces had evidently done all they could to lure the SeeD operatives further along the mountain range and away from the facility, having inadvertently benefited the three cadets greatly in their own advance. The diversion would have been a complete success were it not for the information they had wrung out of the captured infantryman.

Climbing over the last of the rocks, he finally arrived at the top beside Seifer, coming to a stop on a precarious ledge overlooking the open summit that housed the communication tower. The drop below met the winding path they had traced on their way up, itself situated on a precipice overlooking the massive steel double-doored entrance to the compound. Littering the terrain lay the decimated corpses of at least two dozen green-clad Dollet soldiers, their bodies unnaturally contorted and strewn about without regard. Among the mass grave lay the odd Galbadian casualty, less than a quarter the number in total from what Squall could infer from their vantage point.

"Geez!" Zell panted, bringing up the rear. "If I ever have to climb over one more frigging boulder, I think I'm gonna-"

He cut himself short as he reached his squadmates' side and took sight of the grisly scene himself.

"Uh… on second thought, maybe it wasn't _that_ bad."

"Looks like the coast is clear for the time being," Squall noted with similar unease. "Strange that there's no guards, though."

"They're probably further back down the trail," Zell commented. "Pretty sure I caught sight of a couple patrolling it on the way up. There's bound to be a lot more inside, though."

"Then, let's move in," Seifer commanded, returning his gunblade to his coat and beginning his climb down the rugged crag to the desecrated path.

Squall followed suit, sheathing his own blade and carefully maneuvering his legs over the lip to find a secure foothold. Although over the last several years he had made regular use of the rock climbing wall in the Garden's physical fitness center, their journey up the mountain had been his first time ascending such a steep and jagged slope without the reassurance of a safety harness. While the height of the current drop he faced was paltry by comparison, and despite having rigorously practiced a fail-safe technique to break his fall courtesy of his Guardian Force, the instinctive tension continued to wrack his nerves as he gradually descended the wall face.

He touched down on the makeshift road a moment later, turning to properly survey the carnage before him. The soldiers' dried blood had stained and splattered the surrounding rocks with a dark crimson, the unmistakable scent of putrefaction beginning to muster amid the slaughter. By his estimation, it had to have been at least half-a-day since the standoff had occurred. Upon closer examination however, he realized the massacred platoon appeared to have been dispatched of by far more gruesome means than a mere firefight. The corpses lay scattered about as if ravaged by a rampaging behemoth, their bodies mutilated, several missing whole limbs, and all positively pulverized. Massive, distinctly wedge-shaped divots in the rock dotted the surrounding area, akin to footprints of a strange variety unlike any living creature Squall had ever encountered or studied.

"What happened here?" he disconcertingly wondered aloud. "This looks way too brutal to be the work of soldiers."

"We are pretty high up in the mountains," Seifer remarked. "Who knows what kind of wildlife might have made itself a nest around here since the tower was abandoned."

In the immediate presence of so much death, it took all the ingrained fortitude Squall possessed to maintain his composure. He had assured himself countless times that each life lost in the line of duty was only a statistic, to be noted and never dwelled upon. He had thought himself mentally prepared to face the ghastly reality of war in the flesh, but now that he stood in the center of it all, he came to realize there was nothing that could have truly readied him for this.

"Scared?" Seifer asked him, having apparently noticed Squall's visible unease. Interestingly, the quip was devoid of its usual cocky inflection, and sounded remarkably genuine.

"I don't know," he murmured, as Zell carefully made his way down the cliff behind him. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"That's only gonna make it worse. First time's always the hardest. Nothing really prepares you for a real war-zone. But after a while, you'll learn to like it."

"I wonder about that," Squall muttered. "I don't take any pleasure in doing we do. It's just business."

"Heh, I could've guessed that," Seifer replied, drawing his gunblade once more and raising his gaze to the platformed apex of the tower high above. "I love battles. The scent of scorched earth, the roaring sound of gunfire, the sheer visceral energy between you and your enemy as you strike him down... I live for that shit."

He abruptly thrust his weapon skyward, pointed straight for the top of the facility.

"Way I see it, as long as you make it out of a battle alive, you're one step closer to fulfilling your dream."

"Your dream?" Squall pondered.

"Yeah, your life's calling, what you really want to make of yourself more than anything else. And I'm not just talking joining SeeD and being a hired-gun, but what comes after all that. Who you want to be remembered as after you're gone. You've got one too, don't you?"

Squall lowered his gaze and furrowed his brow, lost in thought at Seifer's words. For as long as he could remember, his dream had merely been to live life on his own terms, to be able to support and look after himself, independent of the concern of anyone else. In pursuit of that goal, he had made it his mission to become a SeeD no matter the cost, and had ultimately idealized the field exam on this day to be the last remaining obstacle to achieve it. And yet in doing so, he had become so single-mindedly focused upon that one ambition, that it had blinded him to the realization that his vision of the future abruptly stopped there.

Up until that very moment, his entire life had been planned out for him: finish basic education, become a cadet, train and refine his skills for years on end, and at the end of it all become a fully-fledged SeeD. He had effectively soiled his chances of passing on this day, providing him at least one more year of familiar routine to fall back on. Despite the disappointment and regret he knew he should feel for his actions, there was instead a strange comfort and contentment to be found in his failure. There was a reassuring sense of certainty and simplicity to his life as an undergraduate, one that he knew he could not carry with him into his prospective SeeDship. Slowly but surely, those days were drawing to a close, if not by next year then the one after. What would fate hold for him once he eventually did pass the exam? Or worse still, he never did and was unceremoniously released from the Garden?

 _Am I afraid?_

He truly had no real dream to speak of, no future laid out for himself following graduation. He would serve as a member of Balamb Garden's mercenary army, dutifully executing missions as they came until… what? Who could he possibly be? What could he possibly do but fight and take commands from those above him? He had willingly deserted his post in the Aurora Square for the sake of contributing to the mission, or so he had convinced himself, but what if it were a matter far more deep-seated? What if he had been intentionally engaging in self-sabotage the entire time, for fear of taking the next step beyond his adolescent years to adulthood, because on a subconscious level he knew he had no idea where he was going?

"I..." he stammered, trying desperately to calm his swirling mind, the implications piling on faster than he could process them. It was too much to consider at once, and far from the appropriate time to be doing so. He breathed deeply, disguising it as a sigh of exasperation.

 _Pull yourself together._

"… sorry, but I'm going to have to pass on that one."

"Pass on what?" Zell chimed, having joined the two at last. "Did I miss something?"

"None of your business, chicken-wuss," Seifer derided him, turning to make his way down the curving trail to the base of the tower.

"Stop calling me that!" he shouted after him.

"Will you keep quiet?" Squall hushed him. "Do you want to blow our cover before we even get inside?"

"Sorry," he sheepishly apologized as he watched their rogue captain further the distance between them. "He just pisses me off so damn much sometimes… well, _all_ the time."

"Isn't that the same for everyone?"

"Yeah, but… it's like a really _fierce_ kind of pissed off. Like it's a gut reaction that just happens on its own."

Squall could not help but agree with Zell's sentiment; years on end spent in the presence of such a negative influence were sure to program such an intense reflex. Even for one as disciplined as himself, maintaining a calm disposition around Seifer in a professional environment was a taxing endeavor.

"Hey, you two!"

The voice came from on high, echoing down to meet them from the ridge they had descended moments ago. Squall turned his gaze in unison with Zell to the source of the call, to see a petite figure clad in a Balamb Garden cadet uniform standing atop the incline, bent over and visibly panting in exhaustion.

"I… I finally," the girl wheezed, desperately trying to catch her breath. "I finally… caught up..."

 _We were being followed the whole time?_ Squall reeled in surprise as the young girl fought to steady herself, carefully finding her footing upon the rocky landscape to make her way down. After no more than three steps, her left foot slipped, sending her plummeting with a frightened yelp from the embankment to the trail below.

"Hang on!" Zell called out, rushing forward to catch her before she hit the ground.

Squall remained fixed to the spot as he watched the spectacle unfold, noticing the look of terror upon the girl's features quickly become focused and intense, seemingly prepared to take the fall. Less than a second before her legs met the terrain, her very figure seemed to slow dramatically, her knees impacting on the ground with a far more graceful thud than should have been possible considering the height of the drop. The aberration had occurred so rapidly that Squall was left to wonder if it had not been a figment of his imagination, and especially so if this young cadet was indeed who she appeared to be, as the large red and gold emblazoned nunchaku strapped to her back suggested.

"Are you alright!?" Zell gasped as he frantically fumbled about his belt for his medical supplies, the girl's eyes still shut from the nearly crippling fall. She at last cracked her right open to glance at him, and cheekily stuck her tongue out with a grin.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" she giddily reassured him, rising to her feet with nary an inkling of soreness in her motions. "I've taken a lot worse tumbles than that before."

The fall, while not from a fatal height, surely ought to have left significant bruising and skinning upon her legs. As she rose however, Squall realized that aside from a minor amount of dirt and gravel left imprinted upon her shins, which she was quick to wipe away, there were no visible injuries to speak of.

"Ugh!" she yelped in disgust at having finally taken notice of the veritable killing field she had landed in the midst of. "What a mess! I did _not_ need to see-"

She cut herself off in mid-sentence as her green eyes met Squall's visage, her bubbly demeanor returning as quickly as it had faded.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, turning to face him. "You're the guy who showed me to the ballroom! 'Squall', right? Didn't think I'd be running into you!"

"Tell me about it," he sighed, silently cursing his luck; of every possible person to have uncovered their desertion, friend and foe alike, for his standing to be held at the mercy of the same hyperactive, ditzy transfer student was perhaps the greatest insult of all. "Sorry, I'm not the best with names."

"It's alright," she smiled, breaking into a salute. "Squad 53, Selphie Tilmitt, CQC and party-lover first class!"

 _What a title…_

"Zell Dincht, tech-specialist and CQC first-class!" his teammate returned the favor and extended his hand. "I think we're gonna get along just fine."

 _Sadly, so do I…_

"You know, you guys are a real pain to get a hold of!" she moaned as she released the handshake. "I was sent to deliver a message to you in the Aurora Square, but by the time I got there, you'd already taken off. I tailed you all the way up here."

"What kind of message?" Squall asked, a knot forming in his stomach.

"Withdrawal orders! And at this rate, we're going to have to hurry!"

" _Withdraw_!?" Zell repeated in shock. "Already? The battle's still going on up here in the mountains!"

"Hey, I'm just a messenger!" Selphie waved her hands before her in a panic. "But there were three of you, right? Where's the squad captain? 'Seifer', I think his name was?"

Squall turned back to face the facility further down the incline they stood upon, to see their grey-clad leader having made his way at last to the giant double doors. He dared not call out to him from such a distance, lest he further risk alerting every guard in the complex, but at once realized he need not have bothered as soon as Seifer turned back to open his mouth.

"Someday," he bellowed, pointing his gunblade directly up at him. "I'm gonna tell you about my _romantic_ dream!"

He promptly swiveled around, hoisted open one of the large steel doors and rushed through, disappearing into the darkness beyond. Squall could only stand on the precipice with his palm placed over his face, unable to even feign surprise at this juncture.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again," Zell sighed. "What. An. Idiot."

"Man," Selphie groaned, sounding similarly deflated. "This is _way_ more than I signed up for."

A moment later she raised her head, readied herself, and broke into a sprint to the edge of the drop, deftly maneuvering around the bodies that littered the trail on her way. She leapt from the ridge without hesitation, soaring through the air in a descending arc before touching down on both feet with the grace of a feline, appearing virtually weightless as she did so. To the average onlooker, it would likely have been passed off as the result of superb acrobatic proficiency, or perhaps even a momentary trick of the eyes as Squall had been willing to assume before. And yet, now faced with a second observed occurrence, the mirage-like deceleration from her previous fall appeared to have transpired in reality, possible only by means that he knew she could not possess.

"Come on!" she called to them from below. "What are you waiting for?"

' _Leap-before-you-look' type, indeed,_ Squall reflected as he turned to his spiky-haired comrade.

"I'm taking the path," he firmly stated. "What about you?"

"Do I _look_ like a reckless moron to you?"

Squall allowed the question hang in the air as he started down the winding walkway at a brisk jog, taking care not to trip over the scattered debris and rocks as he worked his way to the bottom. It too was laden with the corpses of many a soldier, Dollet and Galbadian alike, paving a trail of bloodshed on towards the towering metal monstrosity. He reached the base of the incline after roughly half a minute, joining the impatiently waiting Selphie by the entrance.

"It would've been a lot quicker if you'd just jumped, too!" she insisted to him.

"It always pays to take proper note of your surroundings," he reminded her. "Especially when we're going to be passing through again on the way back."

"Yeah," Zell agreed from behind. "And besides, you don't normally just jump off a cliff."

"Whatever," she deflected. "Let's just get in, find the captain and get out of here. Like I said, we don't have a whole lot of time left."

Selphie promptly ducked into the ajar entryway, the two young men on her heels as they stepped into the nexus of the tower together. The quickly fading daylight to their backs notwithstanding, the dark circular interior was dimly lit only by the glow of powered-on computer terminals lining the walls, and fleeting emergency lights situated along the corroded metal floor every so often. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the void, Squall could make out the shadowy silhouettes of incapacitated soldiers slumped in the chairs by their workstations, or sprawled about on the ground. Seifer had clearly not wasted any time. The control hub's center was comprised of a wide grated shaft stretching far up into the pitch black abyss above, containing a large, metallic capsule-like contraption within. To the rear lay a pair of equally massive twin metal doors leading further into the facility, barely visible around the strange apparatus from their current viewpoint.

"Wow," Selphie breathed in amazement. "He really cleaned house."

"It's what he does best," Squall affirmed. "That and get under the skin of everyone he meets."

"Where did he go, though?" Zell pondered, just as a distinct humming sound met Squall's ears. He shifted his gaze upward to spot a rectangular, railed loading platform slowly descending from the upper levels, soon to come to a rest immediately beside the shaft.

"Up?" he suggested with a cursory glance back to his fellow cadets.

"Makes sense," Selphie agreed.

"Well, let's get on," Zell gestured, stepping aboard. "Looks like it'll hold us all, no problem."

Squall followed his lead, as did Selphie as he operated the adjacent control panel. The platform hummed to life once again, jerking as it began its ascent back into the never. It was agonizingly slow, clearly constructed for efficiency and heavy-lifting rather than speed, but would suffice in lieu of no other visible alternative.

"Before," Squall turned to Zell. "When we wrung the plan out of the guard, you sounded like you knew this place."

"I've read up a little about it before," he admitted, ruffling his own hair. "It's pretty old tech, all things considered. Dates back about fifty years or so, but it was in regular use around these parts right up until the blackout started. I'd always wanted to take a look at it sometime, see what I could learn. Kinda wish it were under different circumstances, though."

"I just want to know why the army is after it," Squall wondered. "You don't think they've somehow managed to fix the interference after all this time?"

"I doubt it. We'd definitely have heard something before now. It'd be international news."

"Uh, I'm a little lost here," Selphie interjected.

"It's a long story," Zell began to fill her in. "And we don't really get it at this point either. All we know is that apparently Galbadia's sole reason for attacking Dollet was just to seize this tower."

"Seriously!?" she exclaimed.

"Keep it down," Squall shushed her as the lift neared the top, opening to a view of the fast-approaching twilight. "I think I hear voices."

There was certainly a conversation of some variety occurring on the platform above, gradually coming into earshot as the lift continued to rise. Squall perked his ears above the motorized din, straining his auditory senses to determine the context.

"… agreement that we will begin pulling out our forces, on the condition it remains active."

"If I can actually _get_ it active! Why the hell am I the one having to make the repairs!? My rank should supersede this!"

"I'm sorry, Major Biggs, but the general did directly task you with this assignment."

"Oh, will you just shut it, Wedge!" the major snapped as the lift finally came to a stop on the large circular expanse that ringed the peak of the communication tower. "You know that old codger has had it out for me ever since I got this promotion!"

The wide grated metal platform branched off from the ever ascending shaft that continued skyward for approximately another forty feet, the circumference lined by three relatively small satellite dishes evenly spaced apart from one another. Peering through the gaps in the cylindrical epicenter, Squall spied two Galbadian soldiers on the opposing side, their backs turned away from the three interloping cadets as they stood by the exposed circuitry contained within one of the dishes' bulky trapezoidal bases. One wore the standard navy blue garb with silver-plated armor, while the other, clearly the commanding officer, was outfitted in a far bulkier, crimson jumpsuit with arms fully encased in the same protective material.

Squall silently motioned with a hand gesture for his comrades to keep low, the three dropping into a crouch as they slowly began to circle around the left side of the shaft. Selphie preemptively drew the nunchaku from her back, smothering the connecting chain with one hand to minimize any potential jangling, as Squall moved his right hand to the hilt of his sheathed weapon.

"I wouldn't think that, sir," the infantryman named Wedge attempted to reason with his superior. "He wouldn't have assigned you to this position if he didn't trust you would be the most capable for the job, would he?"

"Whatever way you want to dress it up, this is way beneath my pay-grade!" Biggs shot back as he continued to fumble with the circuits. "Geez, what's with these crappy old tools? Let's see… this goes here… and that goes there…"

The threesome crept further along the side of the shaft, placing utmost care into each footstep as the major continued to service the transmitter in irritation. They began closing in from behind, Squall ever so carefully unsheathing his gunblade as he prepared to ambush the unsuspecting CO from behind.

 _Just a little closer…_

"That goes with this, and… I think that's it!" Biggs triumphantly declared, activating the satellite with a quick series of button presses.

Squall stopped in his tracks abruptly, he and his companions now a matter of feet from the backs of their targets as the machine audibly whirred to life in tandem with its two siblings. Moments later, the platform beneath began to rumble. He adjusted his footing, legs spread to balance himself as the tremor began to increase in intensity, and followed Zell and Selphie's example by gripping hold of the grating below to steady himself. The two officers similarly clung for dear life to the side of the communication array, and before long a distinct roar began to draw nearer from the depths of the facility. Squall shifted his eyes to the source of the clamor, namely the central shaft leading back down into the control hub. At once, a gargantuan metal pillar shot out from below at tremendous speed, coming to an abrupt stop high above their heads. Squinting against the dark orange, late afternoon backdrop, he could tell that atop the massive column now stemming from the facility sat the large capsule he had seen situated in the center upon their entry.

Slowly the apex of the pillar began to turn counter-clockwise, as the capsule lowered itself to a forty-five degree angle, now resembling a cannon as it poised itself diagonally across the eastern ocean divide. It parted with a distinct mechanical hiss, clearly audible to Squall even from so high above, and began to part outward in a manner befitting a blossoming flower. Its former shell separated into three evenly-spaced fragments, circling a large transmitting antennae situated in the middle. Metal coupling quickly extended from either side of each of the three jutting pieces, connecting with one another in rapid succession and forming the shape of an enormous satellite dish, easily dwarfing the three on the platform by at least four times the sheer size. After seventeen years of disuse, left to rust atop the desolate mountain summit, the Dollet communication tower had been rendered operational once more.

"Sir! Intruders!"

Squall and his party's attention was immediately drawn back to their own eye-level, quickly ushering themselves back to their feet at the cry of alarm. Wedge had already drawn his standard-issue glaive from his side, hoisting it before him in a combat-ready stance as Biggs abruptly spun around to face the trio.

"Who the hell?" he stammered. "A bunch of kids? How did you get up here!? What happened to the crew downstairs!?"

"Your men have all been dealt with," Squall growled as he raised his gunblade boldly before him. "You have nowhere to run. Shut this tower down, now!"

"Don't make me laugh, you little punk!" Biggs arrogantly snarled.

The major raised his steel-clad right arm parallel to the platform and trained it directly at him, stabilizing the weight with his left. A volley of rounds erupted from the machine gun mounted to his heavy-plated gauntlet, Squall just barely managing to erect a protective barrier in time. The bullets ricocheted off of the transparent blue shielding, pinging off of the platform and disappearing across the darkened horizon.

"You brats should've stayed home," Wedge sneered as he made his charge toward Selphie, her own nunchaku outstretched to meet the attack. His blade impacted upon the iron weaponry with a resounding clang, not leaving so much as a nick in its figure.

Squall rushed forward to meet the still firing Biggs, drawing back his gunblade over his shoulder and pulling the trigger as he released the strike. The major leapt out of the way far more nimbly than his bulky attire would have suggested, as the slice met the grated platform and cleaved through the metal surfacing with little resistance. Not wasting a moment, Squall twisted his upper body back to the crimson commanding officer, and raised his free hand before him, concentrating on drawing forth the energy as he had attempted earlier that same morning. The flames instantly began to pulse forth, intensifying rapidly in his palm, until he at last let go and sent the burning sphere hurtling forward rapidly. Biggs once again thew himself out of the way of the oncoming blast, the flaming projectile threading the divide that had opened between Selphie and Wedge before impacting on the grated shaft, imploding in a burst of searing flame.

"Are you _crazy_!?" Biggs roared in disbelief, evidently shaken from the close brush with immolation. "How do you expect to shut this tower down if you kill _me_!?"

"I'd be happy to tack a crack at it," Zell quipped from behind him, placing his left hand on his armored shoulder and slugging him squarely in the mouth with the other.

Biggs toppled over with a sizable thump, groaning in agony as he desperately tried to right himself. Zell brought his foot down upon his right arm, channeling his Guardian Force's strength to smash the machine-gun attachment. Biggs cried out in pain from the monstrous blow to his arm, all but demolishing the metal gauntlet he wore and boring a small hole through the platform below. The blonde-haired youth wasted not a moment of their precious ticking time, kneeling down to lift him up by the scruff of his uniform.

"Thing is, we're in a bit of a hurry. So whatd'ya say you just cooperate, and I won't have to break your legs, too."

"Put him down!"

The accusatory order came from by the side of the towering synthetic pillar. Squall turned his head to see Wedge having restrained Selphie by the waist, his glaive threateningly held up to her throat. Her nunchaku lay idly by on the metal platform several feet away, leaving her utterly defenseless as she struggled to back her neck away from the edge of the blade. Squall's mind began to race, speedily contemplating every feasible method of intervention; he would never be able to close the gap in time by conventional means, and understood that assault magic the likes of his fire blast would be liable to catch Selphie in the crossfire. Such dire circumstances left only Squall's secondary and still largely in-development field of spellcraft to fall back on.

Each Guardian Force bore a unique set of pre-existing dispositions towards and against the myriad varieties of magic at a SeeD's disposal, all of which directly correlated with the effectiveness of molding the energy to invoke specific spells. While the energy could potentially be utilized to conjure magic of a multitude of distinct persuasions, it was the elemental nature of the summoned creature tied to the energy that ultimately determined which were best suited. For Squall, whose own was that of a fire elemental nature, it would be spells of said particular school which would naturally bear the most potent results, while those of ice and water would be exceedingly ineffective by comparison. By contrast, Zell's earth elemental nature had bestowed him with an inclination towards manipulating rock and stone in various ways, or by channeling raw strength into his limbs as he had demonstrated just moments ago. In exchange, it left him with a sharp disadvantage with regard to both lightning and wind spellcraft.

The remaining spells in a given Guardian Force's repertoire were not beyond effective utilization by a skilled wielder, and so Squall had over the previous six months shifted the focus of his training to the wind school of magic. It was a multifaceted element in that it could be wielded for a variety of miscellaneous uses beyond standard offensive or defensive measures. Of particular note, by properly channeling the wind energy through his legs, he would be able to effectively enhance his own natural movements beyond that of a normal human. With proper focus and expert application, it could allow him to propel himself far higher than a standard jump, slow his fall by generating a flotation buffer beneath him, or most pertinently, provide him a momentary speed boost to clear the distance in time to cut down Wedge. It was a risky maneuver, having only recently made notable progress in his usage of the various techniques, and never having applied them in the field. With no other viable option at hand however, he swung his gunblade back and began to focus the energy into his legs, preparing to make the charge.

At that moment, a loud crackle of static precipitously broke the silence that had fallen over the confrontation, and Squall's concentration along with it. He looked to the captive, close-eyed Selphie within the soldier's grasp, and noticed her very figure had begun to shimmer with a radiant light. The crackling began to intensify, Wedge not seeming to understand as he reeled his head back in confusion. The young girl's body continued to sparkle intensely, until at last the energy was unleashed. Lightning exploded from her small frame, electrocuting the Galbadian soldier as he dropped his glaive, screaming and spluttering in torture. He at once fell to the platform, his once sterling uniform charred and smoking, and made no effort to rise. The electricity dissipated as quickly as it had materialized, as the light faded away and Selphie reopened her eyes with a confident grin.

"Never count me out!" she cheekily declared with her hands on her hips.

Squall stood in a state of absolute bewilderment and perplexity. The manner in which he had seen her break her fall twice had been no illusion; it had been the work of the exact same technique he had spent a significant span of the last six months attempting to perfect, reproduced before his very eyes by someone who by all accounts should never have been able to. Coupled with the billowing blast of lightning he had just witnessed her perform, he was left to face the seemingly impossible truth of the matter: this ditzy transfer student, so freshly inducted into Balamb Garden that she still struggled to find her way around the campus, possessed a Guardian Force.

"Screw this!" Biggs shouted as he broke free of the likewise stunned Zell's grip. Nearly tripping over himself in his haste, he bolted for the opposite end of the platform, beginning to circle around the satellite pillar back towards the lift.

"Come on!" Selphie urged the two of them, retrieving her nunchaku from the grating. "Let's move!"

Squall broke from his state of disbelief and followed her lead in pursuit of the major. The group circumnavigated the corner as he frantically jammed his fist on the neighboring control panel. He verbally pleaded with the lift to hurry all the while as they approached, seemingly in denial of the fact that it would be too slow to serve as a viable method of escape.

"Give it up," Zell taunted him as he continued to punch the panel in vain. "You've lost. Just accept it and do as we say!"

"In your dreams, you little shit!" he angrily swore, turning to face them. "If you don't kill me, then the higher-ups definitely will! I'm not about to let all this work I've put in here go to waste! Not at the hands of a bunch of baby-faced little brats like you!"

"Oh, will you just shut _up_!" a snide voice snapped from behind him, its owner rising with the lift.

With a well-timed boot to the back, Seifer violently kicked Biggs forward, sending him toppling over and landing on his face with a startled cry. He stepped off of the elevator calmly, planting his foot atop the downed major's prostrate body for good measure.

"Talk about a blowhard!"

 _Takes one to know one, I guess…_

"Squad captain!" Selphie addressed him, rushing forward to the head of the pack.

"Well," Seifer cockily responded. "At least _someone_ around here's got a sense of decorum."

"I'm a messenger from Squad 53," she ignored the comment. "I've come to give you withdrawal orders."

" _Withdraw_!? We haven't finished the fight yet!"

"I know, I know," she pleaded agitatedly. "But orders are orders. All SeeD operatives and candidates are to assemble at the shore for withdrawal by 1900 hours. We've got to hurry if we're going to make it!"

"1900 hours?" Squall repeated, pulling back his cadet jacket's sleeve to examine his digital wristwatch. He had taken Xu's advice to adjust it to Dollet standard time during his long shift spent manning the turret of the assault boat. His eyes widened and his heart sank as he read the display: _18:32_.

"We've got less than thirty minutes!"

" _What_!?" Zell shrieked. "We've got to go all the way back down the mountain and through the town in less than thirty minutes!?"

"That's why I was telling you guys we needed to _hurry_!" Selphie frantically urged.

"Point taken," Seifer dryly commented, giving the figure of Biggs beneath his boot one final kick for good measure. He violently punched the control panel and stepped aboard the lift as it began its descent once more.

"Hey!" Zell shouted after him, charging to the side of the open shaft. "What the hell!?"

"Exam's over, chicken-wuss!" he yelled up as the lift began to fade into the dark of the tower's nexus. "It's every man for himself, now! Better run, or else you'll be swimming home!"

"Not much of a leader, is he?" Selphie asked Squall with an exasperated sigh.

He allowed the self-evident question to drift away on the chilly evening air without an answer, instead turning his focus to more immediately pressing matters. They would be forced to wait until the lift returned to the top of the complex before making their mad dash back to the shore, which would necessitate every ounce of endurance their legs had to offer if they were to have any chance at arriving in time. For as long as their momentum lay at the mercy of the agonizingly slow machinery however, there remained at least one lingering mystery on Squall's mind for which he needed a conclusive answer.

"Why do you have a GF?" he asked the bubbly young girl with a stern look. "The next certification test isn't for another three months."

"Oh, uh," she stammered, visibly uncomfortable from having been suddenly placed on the spot. "Yeah, because I'm new and they realized I'd be going in without one, they bumped up my certification date and gave me one to use. It's a new policy they're just starting up for all transfer students. Makes sense, right?"

It made no sense to Squall, who had heard nothing of this alleged new policy. The reasoning behind implementing such a rule change was sound enough, and he could believe that much to be true to help balance the playing field for new transfers. His confusion lay not with the policy itself, but the sheer level of skill Selphie had already displayed despite having supposedly only just received her own Guardian Force. The dazzling lightning strike notwithstanding, the wind elemental technique of slowing one's momentum by way of a flotation buffer was an advanced one that had taken Squall several months of practice to become accustomed to. It required expert focus and precision in determining how much energy to expend and how to properly balance it across one's lower body for an even and steady deceleration. The higher the fall, the more it would require, hence Squall's abstention from simply leaping off the top of the communication tower to avoid waiting for the lift. From a fall of such severity, it was unlikely any amount of energy would suffice.

"It's coming back up!" Zell called. "Let's move!"

Squall pushed the discrepancy out of his mind, stepping forward with Selphie as the lift rose to their level. They quickly boarded as Zell pressed the panel, and began their long and sure to be physically draining trek back to the beach.


	6. Chapter 4 - Unexpected Consequences

4

 **CHAPTER 4 – UNEXPECTED CONSEQUENCES**

Major Biggs lay face-down upon the grated partition, his body aching and sore from the ruthless beating he had sustained. His right arm screamed in pain from the blow it had taken, only counting himself fortunate enough for it not to have been snapped clean in two. To his rear, the familiar hum of the cargo elevator slowly faded away down the shaft, carrying with it the teenage trespassers who had almost single-handedly laid their plans to waste. The tower had been successfully repaired and reactivated per the orders he had received from the top brass, his own chagrin at having been provided no explanation as to its importance notwithstanding. It remained in operation even now in lieu of the interloping cadets' forced withdrawal, and yet despite the apparent success of the mission objective, it could not change the fact that it had nearly been so easily foiled under his own watch. They had stormed the tower, defeated his men, incapacitated he and his lieutenant, and surely would have deactivated the communication array had the ceasefire not been called. He would all but certainly be demoted upon his return to the capital, and possibly even reassigned.

He had loathed General Caraway's executive decision to bestow him with this responsibility, knowing his talents were far better suited for a position on the front-lines as opposed to overseeing repairs on an obsolete piece of machinery. Despite the apparent lapse of judgment, or perhaps abuse of power on the part of his superior, the assault had proceeded perfectly according to plan from the initial landing at Lapin Beach. The infantry battalions had swiftly rushed ashore, secured the town, and driven the Dollet army back into the mountains. Biggs and his platoon had cut a swathe of devastation up to the facility with the assistance of their new prototype weapon, utterly slaughtering the enemy troops that had retreated to its safety and pushing their scattered forces further along the range. From there, the repair work had begun and continued over the course of an entire day, only for it to be so nearly undone by a small group of meddlesome brats.

 _I'm not having this,_ he silently vowed, pushing himself up with his still-functional left arm and rising to his knees.

He fumbled about his utility belt, groping the opposite side of his waist for the remote control he sought, and finally brought it before his face. Squinting his eyes through his visor at the dimly-lit display in the falling dusk, he quickly set the dial to match the newly reinstated frequency of the communication tower, and adjusted the device's settings to burst transmission. Such would be the only effective manner by which to activate the dormant mech far on the bottom level of the facility. The Black Widow had made short work of the Dollet infantry forces, providing a successful field test run for the first fully-autonomous, ground-based weaponry powered by the military's newly developed AI programming. It was nothing less than a destructive force of nature, with its sole drawback coming by way of the observable difficulty it had presented in differentiating friend from foe. Following the resultant deaths of no less than a dozen of his own men, Biggs had been quick to deactivate the mech upon their seizure of the facility, and had it moved to the tower's rear storage hangar. There could be no accounting for the ruin it would surely wreak if given free reign to seek and destroy indiscriminately.

 _I don't give a damn anymore!_ he swore to himself as he activated the controller, setting the targeting system before he toppled over again out of exhaustion. _Just as long as it kills those little shits!_

* * *

Squall and his entourage fled the communication tower in a furious dash, bolting up the winding trail ahead of them as fast as their legs would allow. Seifer had already established a significant lead, having long since disappeared from the immediate vicinity; it would require every shred of physical fitness the three could muster to catch up. Squall fought to maintain his steady breath support as he frantically pumped his legs, physically and mentally prepared for the grueling race against time. Though the narrowing window they faced served to encourage his utilization of the wind-rush technique now more than ever, his own sense of dignity forbade him from following in his rival's self-absorbed abandonment of his comrades. All he could hope for was that the ingrained, stone-laden pathway leading back down the mountain would allow for a far quicker journey than the route they had taken up, and that they would likewise not be slowed by any remaining Galbadian troops along the way. They ascended to the small precipice lined by dismembered corpses they had stood upon earlier, as a sudden muffled boom reverberated from the direction of the tower.

"What was _that_?" Selphie wondered aloud, the rumble abruptly freezing the three in their tracks.

Squall turned to face the facility once more, not noting any visible change to its rusted exterior. The sound appeared to have originated from deeper within the complex, leaving him to grasp for any inkling as to what it might have been. With precious seconds continuing to tick by as he pondered the distraction, he quickly realized there was no spare time to be wasted on such trivialities. The state of the tower was no longer their concern, nor arguably should it ever have been to begin with. Perhaps Seifer had sabotaged the generator system on his way out, though a single fleeting glance up at the massive satellite dish indicated no signs of it having lost power.

Just as he began to swivel back along the trail ahead, a deafening screeching and thundering of metal snapped his attention back to the tower entrance. The giant twin metal doors, left ever so slightly ajar in the party's haste had been ripped clean off of their hinges and sent flying in a blast of debris, the fragments shooting forward and embedding themselves in the rocky incline they had just surmounted moments ago. Squall reeled back in tandem with his squadmates and shielded his eyes against the sudden explosion of steel and gravel, squinting through the gaps in his fingers as the dust slowly began to clear. The sounds of whirring machinery and pounding footsteps reached his ears, and from the darkness of the central control hub strode a gargantuan war machine unlike any he had ever seen.

The most accurate descriptor for the terrifying monstrosity that had emerged was a giant robotic spider, albeit standing on four wide, pillar-shaped legs rather than eight. Its facial structure bore a glowing blood-red scanning apparatus, flanked on either side by a pair of oversized, razor-sharp mandibles each as long as one of its legs. Its wedge-shaped feet dug deep into the terrain as it stepped forward out of the wreckage, leaving gaping divots in their wake. Quickly darting his eyes away to glance about the grisly mass slaughter that surrounded them, Squall took note once again of the similar footprints left entrenched across the bloodied battleground, at last having determined the mysterious culprit.

"You've got to be _kidding_ me!" Zell howled in shock, as the mech's scanner tilted upward and began to hum as it took sight of them.

"Forget it!" Squall commanded, pivoting at once and breaking off down the trail to the base of the mountain. "Just run!"

The three dashed over the remains of the Dollet infantry at their feet as the pounding footsteps began to thud at a quickening pace behind them. The downward incline of the pathway was steep, easily liable to send them tumbling over face-first at the maddening speed with which they raced to the bottom. All along the bodies of soldiers, ally and enemy alike lay scattered wildly, ravaged and left to fester beside twin streaks of similar divots dotting both sides of the path like potholes. The Galbadian war machine had wrought a trail of death on its way to the summit, which now only served to actively obstruct the cadets' way in their hour of desperation. They did not stop, bounding down the slope as though pursued by the very hounds of hell, the mechanical squeaking and hissing of the robot's hydraulics systems remaining within clear earshot alongside the clamoring heavy footsteps.

For minutes on end they charged, the acid pumping through Squall's legs continuing to build all the while and beckoning him to slow down for even a moment. He refused, pushing himself to the limits of his physiological constitution and beyond. Zell and Selphie matched his pace to either side, the expressions of both appearing frightened to within an inch of their lives. As the thundering approach of the killing machine continued to draw closer from behind, he realized such distance was further from the realm of hyperbole than he felt comfortable with. At long last the stone bridge they had crossed from the city came into view, as beautiful a sight as the pristine shores of Balamb he hoped he would live to see again. He poured on the speed like never before, his newly developed tunnel vision focused squarely on the devastated overpass ahead.

A shrill cry of anguish sounded from behind the moment he reached the bridge, forcing him to a sudden halt as Zell flew past. He risked a hasty glance over his shoulder to see Selphie having fallen to the ground, clutching at her ankle with both hands.

 _Unbelievable._

His eyes shifted from the figure of the young girl attempting to raise herself, to the rapidly closing spider mech that would surely trample her underfoot within a matter of seconds. With no time to spare, much less in which to form a reasonable thought, Squall channeled the wind energy into his legs and bolted back to her side with speed to rival a world-class sprinter. He vigorously hoisted her up in both arms at once and raced back in the direction of the bridge, the rampaging war machine now practically nipping on his heels. The girl's shining green eyes gazed up at him from within his grasp, gleaming a mixture of terror and gratitude.

"Get over here!" Zell roared from the opposite end of the bridge. "I'm going to end this!"

Squall put everything he had into his lower body, his muscles positively on fire as he sprinted at top speed to reach the other side. Zell had closed his eyes in concentration, beginning to channel his own GF's energy. He extended his outstretched palm forward as the shimmering aura surrounded his body, willing the sphere's contained apparition to manifest before him. The energy leapt from his figure, converging and melding rapidly into two distinct bi-pedal shapes of pure light as Squall flew past both. Gazing back over his shoulder, he witnessed the two celestial forms solidify into existence on the bridge before the fast-approaching spider-bot.

In a flash there now stood two minotaurs, one large with crimson horns, and one small with golden horns, the muscular bodies of each covered in striking violet fur. The two bovine beasts each lifted their mighty hooved feet in unison, and brought them thundering down just as Squall reached Zell's position on the other side. A small earthquake erupted, shattering the surface of the bridge before them and sending the crumbling debris falling to the crashing waves below. The spider suddenly stopped in its tracks, the artificial intelligence appearing to recognize the threat and instantaneously shifting its gears into reverse. It backed up quickly to the opposite end of the waterway, just barely managing to clear itself before the segment of the bridge it had been standing on gave way. On Squall's side, the twin minotaurs slowly faded back into the ethereal energy they had sprung from, dissipating into the ether as Zell retracted his outstretched hand.

"Holy crap," he wheezed, clearly too exhausted to manage much more.

Squall could not blame him; sustaining a summon in and of itself was already a physically taxing demand, but to do so immediately after having run a short marathon required levels of endurance that he could not even begin to imagine.

"Can you walk?" Squall asked Selphie still in his arms, as he began to lower her to her feet.

"I think so," she spoke, touching down on the paved road and settling herself. After a moment of stretching her leg and working her ankle, she turned back to him. "Thank you. Both of you."

"It's nothing," Squall replied in monotone. "Let's just hurry on."

"Uh, guys?" Zell worryingly interjected as he pointed across the river. "I've got some bad news!"

Following his finger, Squall's eyes settled on the remains of the wide stone pillars previously used to support the bridge. The spider-bot presently clung to the third from the opposite side of the canal, scaling the broken structure to its peak before making its next jump. Debris fell to the rapids below as the mech sunk its talons into the support beams upon impact, and quickly began its ascent again.

"That thing just won't give up!" Selphie shrilled.

"And neither can we," Squall affirmed. "We're almost there. To the shore!"

The chase swiftly recommenced as Squall retraced his steps back to the Aurora Square, the eventual resuming thudding from behind audible even from several blocks away. He tore down the streets, passing by numerous fellow squads making their withdrawal as time continued to dwindle. The roads remained littered with corpses and all manner of refuse, each an obstacle which only robbed them of the costly semi-seconds it took them to surmount, and rendered increasingly obscured in the early evening darkness. A massive crash soon sounded from behind, prompting Squall to indulge himself with another curious peek over his shoulder. The robot had smashed its way clear through a nearby cafe lining the street behind them, shattered glass and brick flying every which way as it closed the gap with its targets. He turned his attention back to the road, and before long took recognition of his surroundings. They had at last reached the final stretch, with only one more turn left to take before they would arrive onto the main street leading to Lapin Beach. Zell and Selphie rushed ahead and turned the corner at the intersection. He prepared to follow when a lone cadet suddenly ran across his path.

"Ow!" he yelled out as the two suddenly collided, Squall inadvertently knocking the young man to the pavement and throwing himself into a stumble.

"Watch it, asshole!" the downed cadet irritably glared up at him. "Look where you're going next-"

He cut himself off abruptly as his furious expression instantly became shock, and the heavy footsteps to Squall's back grew ever louder, sickeningly crunching atop the remains of burnt-out vehicles and fallen soldiers. The youth shrieked in alarm as he righted himself immediately and went sprinting off down the street. Squall followed suit, not daring to look back again for even a moment, lest the terror of what he would surely see cause him to stumble again. The brick archway framing the large stone stairway descending to the beach came into sight, Zell and Selphie just now taking them down two at a time as the departing SeeD assault boats on the shore came into view. He pumped his legs fiercely, clearing the arch just as it exploded behind him, the robot bursting through as though it were constructed of flimsy tissue paper.

The force of the tremor sent him hurtling from the stone outcropping to the sand below so violently that he could not have possibly mustered an air buffer to break his fall in time. Brick rained from the heavens as he struggled to his feet, spitting out the mouthful of coarse grains he had taken in, and darted across the beach to the waiting vessel. Zell, Selphie, Seifer and the members of Squad 20 stood in the illumination of the open deployment chamber to the fore of the ship, the former two waving frantically for him to hurry as the boat began pulling away from the shore. Behind, the mighty footsteps continued to pound, shaking the already unsteady surface he ran upon, and toppling him to the ground mere yards from his waiting comrades. He raised himself to his knees, and turned to look back over his shoulder to see the spider charging right for him, sharpened mandibles chomping wildly as it cleared the distance. Try as he might, he could not firmly stabilize his footing upon the shifting sand quickly enough to escape.

 _So this is how it ends…_

He tightly shut his eyes in anticipation, as the gnashing twin reaper's scythes advanced to whisk him away to whatever fate awaited him beyond the veil of death. What came next however was not the excruciating pain of his body having been ruthlessly sliced in two, nor the parched scream of anguish from his own fatigued lungs, but the rapid-fire roar of machine gun fire from directly above. Opening his eyes and gazing upward before him, he met the sight of Quistis Trepe manning the assault boat's turret, unloading round after round into the stainless steel mask of the war machine to his rear. It stalled in its tracks, steadying itself as its visor was peppered with innumerable bullet holes, shredding the metal facade away to reveal the sparking underlying circuitry. His life spared by the grace of his instructor, Squall rose to his feet once again and rushed into the shallows of the waters. He focused his mind as best he could in his relentlessly exhausted state, pouring what remaining strength he had into his half-submerged legs and leaping into the transport, landing hard on the plated metal floor.

A cheer erupted from his fellow cadets, save Seifer who merely posed against the wall with a slick grin plastered on his features. Squall shifted his eyes back to the shore to see the ravaged spider-bot, now billowing thick black smoke as it stood seemingly paralyzed on the sand, short-circuiting from the irreparable damage it had suffered. A moment later it burst into a billowing inferno, lighting up the dusk with a booming explosion that echoed far and wide. Zell slammed the door control panel as the ship began to turn, the bay doors closing shut with a distinct thunk. It was over. The SeeD field exam had concluded.

 _And now I don't want to get out of bed for the next week._

"Are you okay?" Selphie asked, offering her hand to help him up. As he stared up into the girl's now too-familiar green eyes, still fraught with anxiety, he realized the present scenario to be an exact mirror of what had transpired upon their first meeting earlier that morning, now feeling as though it had been a month ago.

"Barely," he responded, taking her hand and allowing her to assist him to his feet.

"That was _unbelievably_ close!" the boy named Nida commented. "What was that thing?"

"If Galbadia has a weapon that destructive at their disposal, we're in trouble," Randall chipped in.

" _Had_ , you mean," Zell retorted. "Thanks to Instructor Trepe, of course."

"You rang?" Quistis spoke as she stepped through the door with Xu in tow, focusing on Squall first and foremost. "Are you alright?"

"Tired enough that I could pass out at any moment, but otherwise okay."

"So," Seifer smarmily started. "Even after all these years, he still needs big bad Quisty to step in and save him."

Squall averted his eyes at the comment, as did Quistis, clearly rendered as uncomfortable as he.

"Why don't you cut the attitude and give us your squad's report?" Xu snapped at him, her tone venomous and eyes furrowed in a mask of rage. "I'll be _very_ interested to hear why you were nowhere to be found at your assigned post."

 _It's going to be a long boat ride home…_

* * *

"I hope you're _real_ proud of yourself," Zell bemoaned as he slammed his naked fist upon the desktop he sat at, his knuckles white with fury. "It's all thanks to _you_ we're going to fail!"

"Will you stop being such a crybaby for once in your miserable life?" Seifer shot back, his legs kicked up nonchalantly as he leaned back in his chair. "We did what was best for the mission's success. And if they can't understand that, then fuck 'em."

Squall held his tongue fast, realizing no good could come from him taking sides at this juncture. He had acknowledged the merits of Seifer's disobedience in the heat of battle, and followed him down his chosen path of self-destruction despite the consequences they would face. As they sat in the cramped, bleak confines of the Balamb Garden detention room, awaiting the impending judgment to be passed down from SeeD's highest authority, he accepted that he had no one to blame but himself for whatever punishment he would be forced to bear. Zell had every reason to be expectant of receiving a failing mark, and yet even at that, Squall could not help but think he was painting far too rosy a picture of the situation they now found themselves in. When considering the severity of their breach of conduct, outright expulsion seemed even more likely an outcome.

The return voyage to the shores of Balamb had been anything but celebratory, with the commandant having spent easily half of the four hour trip berating them for their reckless actions. Quistis had been beyond horrified at the recounting of their desertion, and had rightfully joined in on the scolding of her assigned squad. Squall could do little but remain silent and accept the verbal onslaught as it came, only then reminded that their dereliction would no doubt directly impact her own evaluation on this day. Caught in the midst of the crossfire sat Selphie and the members of Squad 20, who had uttered not a peep for the duration of the journey, save for the inevitable questioning of the former's run-in with them atop the mountain. Her responses had been devoid of any indication of the usual ditzy demeanor Squall had come to expect from her, delivered with an audibly shaky and uncomfortable tremor in her voice to match her glum facial expression.

The Galbadian leadership had established contact with SeeD's forces via a representative from Galbadia Garden shortly following the landing. They had delivered the proposed details of a ceasefire to them, which they had been quick to pass on to the evacuated Dollet parliament. The accord had stated that the army would disengage their forces from the city and the surrounding mountain region on the sole condition that the communication tower remained operational. With but a single stipulation of such a seemingly innocuous nature, the parliament had deliberated and agreed to accept within record time, leaving SeeD to issue an immediate withdrawal order. Seifer still could not accept that he had been so cruelly denied his moment of glory at having foiled the enemy ploy, only to be swiftly put in his place by Xu who had reminded him that their orders only extended so far as their client deemed necessary. The battle had already effectively concluded by the time they had begun their ascent of the mountain, and their meddling had only served to endanger the status of the ceasefire and potentially re-ignite the conflict.

Taking into account the time-zone change, it was well past midnight by the time they had arrived back at the Garden. Rather than assembling with the rest of the exam participants for the post-mission debriefing in the ballroom, they had been promptly relieved of their weaponry and marched to the dimly-lit, windowless detention room on the 14th floor for holding, while their fate was decided by the administration. It was now past one in the morning by Squall's watch, his eyes beginning to close on themselves in exhaustion from the excruciatingly long day. His mind was a blur as he reflected on the unbelievable events that had transpired in the mere span of twenty-four hours. None of it seemed real to him now. Not the battle with Seifer and the newfound scars upon their faces. Not the fight to reclaim the city. Not the climb up the mountain and face-off atop the communication tower, and certainly not the all-too-close brush with death he had miraculously been spared from.

Least of all however, it was truly surreal for him to consider that he had in fact taken real human lives on that day, and with such little pause at that. He had imagined it in his mind's eye countless times before, run through what he had thought to be every possible scenario in which he would potentially be forced to make his first kill. In each instance of fantasy his mind had indulged in over the years, he had always assumed that when the moment finally arrived he would feel at least the tiniest pang of regret in doing so. And yet now, the only regret he felt came from his compliance with his squad captain's desertion, and the subsequent consequences he would face. It unnerved him on a deep-seated level, recalling Seifer's words to him as they stood amid the heap of massacred Dollet soldiers.

* * *

 _"First time's always the hardest. Nothing really prepares you for a real war-zone. But after a while, you'll learn to like it."_

* * *

He had brushed his rival's words away all too easily, now left to wonder if it really were beyond him to reach such a state of depravity. It was a slippery slope that he knew began with the very nonchalance he had felt in the moment.

His dismal pondering was interrupted by the sudden hiss of the detention room's automatic doors parting. The commandant and their instructor stepped into the dank, barren chamber, still outfitted in their regal black SeeD uniforms. Squall raised his eyes to meet Quistis' gaze, to see a puzzling look he could not easily identify flash across her fair features. It lay somewhere between the realms of disappointment and relief, two contrasting states of mind that had somehow amalgamated into one convoluted emotional display. It was a telling augury if Squall had ever seen one, as he clenched his jaw and mentally braced himself for the judgment to be cast upon him.

"The council has adjourned," Xu began forebodingly. "After much deliberation, and having taken into consideration cadet Tilmitt's testimony of events, a verdict has been reached. Dincht, Leonhart, the two of you are hereby acquitted of the charges of desertion, under the determination that you were merely following the commands of your squad leader, however misguided and reckless they may have been. As such, your respective results for the field exam will not be impacted."

"Oh, _yeah_!" Zell roared, bolting up out of his seat with both fists cast skyward in triumph.

Squall could not believe his ears, left utterly dumbfounded as his jaw immediately relaxed and hung agape of its own accord. He had been all but positive that their gross insubordination would have destroyed any possibility of attaining SeeDship. It had seemed an inevitability from the very moment the three had departed the Aurora Square, the only variable being the severity of the punishment they would face upon their return. To have instead been outright absolved of any blame, to have been so graciously tossed a lifeline to single-handedly salvage his chance of passing was far more than he could have ever asked for. And if he were being honest with himself, far more than he deserved.

"That right there tells me everything I need to know about what this organization really values," Seifer irritably snarled. "Blind obedience is rewarded, while free-thinkers who step outside the lines are made an example of."

"Don't be so stuck on yourself," Xu firmly scolded him. "You will take full responsibility for leaving your assigned post. You endangered the lives of your comrades and nearly brought the entire ceasefire crumbling down."

"There wouldn't have needed to be a ceasefire if we'd stayed to finish the job!" he growled back. "We would've been _heroes_ if it weren't for that damn withdrawal order!"

"Spare us the 'noble intentions' routine," Quistis chastised him. " _You_ were only looking for a fight."

"My dear _instructor_ ," he snorted in a clearly sarcastic tone, "I'm hurt. Those are rather cruel words for an aspiring student. Is it not the duty of a leader to determine the best possible plan of action for the success of the mission? But then, what could a mediocre instructor like _you_ possibly know about leadership?"

An icy silence fell over the room, as did a look of shock upon the faces of both Quistis and Zell at the unbelievably disrespectful remark. On an ideological level, Squall found himself in alignment with Seifer's supposed principle, though he dared not express it aloud. Regardless of the details of an assigned contract, failing to act upon the critical information they had uncovered seemed an alternative every bit as irresponsible as their desertion. It was a moral grey-area which required resolute determination to make the right choice in the heat of battle. Hot-headed and arrogant though he was, Seifer had possessed such determination and made the difficult call. Such decisions were part and parcel of the burden of leadership, something Squall wanted no involvement with whatsoever; to assume full responsibility for his own well-being was onus enough. For what logical common ground they shared however, he could not vouch for the unfettered contempt his rival had now shown to their direct superior.

"You truly are unbelievable," Xu menaced, stepping before their taken aback instructor. "And to think, I was ready to give you the benefit of the doubt this morning, that maybe, just _maybe_ after last year you'd shape up and start acting more like a professional. But you just don't learn, do you? Either because you refuse to, or you're simply incapable of it. I don't know which, and frankly I don't care anymore. What the headmaster sees in you, I'll never understand. If the final decision were up to me, you'd be packing your bags this very moment. That you have the gall to try lecturing _anyone_ about leadership is an affront, when you've proven you don't even have what it takes to become a SeeD to begin with. Calling yourself a leader is a joke."

"I think that's quite enough, Xu."

The measured and calm interjection came from the open doorway, through which stepped Headmaster Cid himself. He still wore the same burgundy vest atop a white dress shirt as he had that morning, flanked by a pair of robed Thorns to either side. His wrinkled, bespectacled face was visibly weary and exhausted from having organized the exam and mobilized the SeeD forces into battle, and now left to manage the proceedings of the aftermath. This man alone carried the fate of the entire Garden upon his shoulders, and was yet another whose position Squall did not envy for a moment.

"I wish to speak with Seifer alone," he firmly announced. "The rest of you are dismissed."

"Yes, sir!" Quistis and Xu saluted in unison, the latter clearly embarrassed at having been caught in the midst of such an emotionally charged ventilation. Squall rose and saluted in turn with Zell before the four made their way to the door and exited into the hallway.

"Well, you heard the headmaster," Xu reiterated as the door hissed shut behind them. "Let us be on our way. The two of you may expect your results in the next three days. Now, return to your dorms and get some rest. Though, I'm sure you don't need me to order you to do that."

She turned and started back for the elevators, Quistis following a moment later with but a fleeting look of melancholy.

"Talk about dodging a bullet!" Zell moaned, stretching. "Can you believe the luck?"

"We still haven't officially passed yet," Squall reminded him.

"The glass is always half-empty with you, isn't it?" he teased, turning down the hall their superiors had traversed with a faint wave back. "Well, see ya around."

Squall remained standing beside the detention room entrance for several prolonged moments until his former squadmate disappeared around the corner up ahead. His curiosity having gotten the better of him, he pressed his body up next to the door, straining his ears to make out the conversation within.

"… always known you to be special," the headmaster's muffled voice spoke. "And that is why I am so very disappointed in you, Seifer. Make no mistake, you will be thoroughly disciplined in the coming weeks for your irresponsible behavior."

A pregnant pause lingered, Squall expecting a snarky retort from the belligerent delinquent to arise at any moment, and yet it did not come.

 _So, even he knows who not to talk back to._

"Even so," he continued. "I am not entirely without sympathy for your reasoning. The last thing I want is for you all to become mindless machines incapable of thinking and acting for yourselves. The mark of a truly great leader is the ability to make the _best_ decision when the _right_ decision isn't always clear. I do believe you have what it takes to succeed, but that you too easily allow your emotions to cloud your judgment and lead you astray. Your heart is in the right place, but I urge you to exercise more control, and not act so callously towards your squadmates and assigned SeeD instructor. Especially when they happen to be-"

"Headmaster," one of the Thorns interrupted. "May I suggest we finish this up quickly? There is still the paperwork concerning the casualties to finalize."

"There are just so many issues at hand," he sighed. "Very well, let us leave it at this."

Squall removed his back from the adjoining wall and swiftly bolted away down the corridor, taking the first available glass capsule elevator back to the main level. The headmaster had clearly attempted to smooth over Seifer's frustration in response to Xu's unbridled lashing out at him, but as he stepped out into the completely vacant main atrium and turned north toward the dorms, Squall knew there could be no quelling the raging wildfire of his rival's resentment. Holding grudges had been one of Seifer's oldest past-times, and he could not begin to imagine the sheer amount of hatred that would come to boil over in his heart from this latest development. It plagued his thoughts as he navigated the dormitory halls back to his room, and upon the sight of his bed, finally felt the exhaustion of the day's ordeal come crashing down on his psyche all at once. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	7. Chapter 5 - Waltz Beneath the Stars

5

 **CHAPTER 5 – WALTZ BENEATH THE STARS**

"At ease," Xu commanded from the head of the assembly, taking her place to the right-hand side of the hall.

Squall snapped out of his salute in unison with the sixty-two other newly appointed SeeDs assembled alphabetically in the Headmaster's office, and placed his hands behind his back as instructed. The man himself and his two Thorn advisers stood before them upon a raised platform, atop which sat an ebony and gold throne flanked by twin navy blue banners bearing the crest of SeeD. An immense glass window rising to the tall domed ceiling spanned the entire southern wall to the rear of the throne, offering an unmatched view of the Alcaud Plains beyond. The towering walls to either side were decorated by more accolades and plaques than Squall could count, each a testament to the already storied history SeeD had accrued, and one that he had by some miracle been deemed worthy of becoming a part of. Scanning his eyes across the multi-tiered congregation, he quickly picked out Zell's spiked blonde hair toward the front, and after a moment caught sight of Selphie's signature light brown hairdo curled upward on either side of her head further down his own row.

As the commandant had informed him, it had been a full three days since the conclusion of the field exam. What time he had not spent eating in the cafeteria or taking a stroll of the campus grounds to clear his mind was spent in his room, recuperating from the savagely tiring day of combat. He had no desire to so much as touch his gunblade for the time being, much less partake in his usual daily training routine, and could imagine most every other participant likely shared his sentiments. It had been an exhaustive ordeal for them all, and not every cadet had left the battlefield unscathed.

From what he had gathered from the weekly student newsletter, of the initial 225 participants, just under thirty had required medical attention in some capacity upon their return. In addition, a total of five cadets had regrettably lost their lives in the line of duty, as well as two of the one-hundred accompanying SeeD operatives. While such paltry statistics were all but negligible by comparison to the casualty figures sustained by both the Galbadian and Dollet forces, the fallen heroes had no doubt been life-long friends to many in the Garden. Never in the years since SeeD's establishment had the field exam concluded without a single fatality, leaving the headmaster and faculty to fulfill their annual obligation of sending word to the families of the deceased, as well as express invitations for the memorial service to be held in their honor the following week.

"First and foremost," the headmaster began formally. "I wish to congratulate you all on a job well done. You have performed admirably, and by standing here today have officially earned a place among the ranks of SeeD. Your respective uniforms will be delivered to your dormitories later this afternoon before the inauguration ball. I sincerely hope you will all be attending. You are the esteemed guests of honor, after all."

Squall had no intention of turning up to the ball if he could avoid it; the very nature of social gatherings of any variant ran completely counter to his own, providing little more than another unwelcome nuisance in his life. He had never understood what exactly it was that the rest of the student body sought to gain out of such events, and hence he had to date never attended the annual homecoming ball open to the Garden's general populace.

"However," Cid continued. "Even as we celebrate your induction, do not forget that with this title comes far greater responsibility than you have faced thus far. From now on, you will be dispatched on assignments all across the globe as representatives of this Garden, and will be expected to handle such missions with the utmost skill and professionalism. You are among the finest combat specialists at our disposal, members of Balamb's elite mercenary army…"

A brief pause hung in the air, as the Headmaster appeared to stall in his speech for a moment. A look of contemplation and uncertainty flashed across his kindly, wrinkled face before he proceeded.

"But, that is merely _one_ aspect of what SeeD truly is. And I only tell you this now to prepare you for a day that I know is fast approaching. When the time comes-"

"Headmaster," one of the Thorns interjected, just as Squall had overheard three nights earlier. "It is almost time for the meeting. Let us please make this short."

The robed figure stepped forward in front of the headmaster, raised his arms before him, and proceeded to speak in his stead.

"SeeD is a valuable asset to Balamb Garden. Its reputation is solely dependent on each one of you. Handle your respective missions with care."

Stunned silence descended upon the hall, each and every assembled graduate remaining perfectly mum as the adviser swiftly about-faced to address Cid once more.

"Is _that_ what you wanted to say, sir?"

Squall was left utterly flabbergasted at the nonchalant manner in which the aide had just upstaged the headmaster. In all his years as a cadet, he had never before witnessed such brazen disrespect be shown to the very head of Balamb Garden himself. As he anxiously shifted his eyes in each direction, it quickly became evident that it was not only he who had been caught off guard, as several murmurs of confusion began to arise among the surrounding wide-eyed students. All the while, Cid remained standing still upon the raised platform in apparent deference, his head bowed in a conciliatory show of submission, with not a single word of protest.

"We will now present you with your SeeD rank reports," the obstinate Thorn spoke again, motioning to Xu with a single wave of his robed appendage. At his command, the commandant lifted a waiting stack of papers from a nearby table, and descended the steps to begin distributing the evaluation forms.

 _Just who's really the one in charge here?_

Xu swiftly made her way through the crowd, bestowing each newly christened SeeD a stapled dossier in turn. Silence once again enveloped the hall, as the first of the young soldiers began to feverishly pore over their standings. While each had attained SeeDship, their respective starting ranks and resultant bi-weekly salary would vary drastically in relation to their final scores. Squall had been previously informed that on the established scale of one to thirty, the highest ranking a new graduate could expect to be awarded provided they had received a superb evaluation was in the seven-to-eight region. There had indeed been exceptional cases in years past, such as Quistis who had been presented with a staggering Rank 13 upon her graduation, which had naturally dovetailed into her promotion to instructor within a matter of months. While he took Xu at her word that his score would not be negatively impacted by their desertion, given his own recollection of events he could not imagine it reaching higher than a five. At the very least, it would certainly be lower than Selphie's rank, and perhaps even Zell's when considering Quistis' praise of his observed spellcraft in the Aurora Square. After several more moments of dismal contemplation, Xu finally stepped in front of him, and whipped his report off the top of the stack to hold it before him.

"You have Tilmitt to thank for this score," she quietly noted as he took it from her hand.

"Excuse…?" he started, but cut himself off as she moved to the graduate beside him without a pause.

His heart began to pound in his chest as he anxiously flipped through the sheets, perturbed as to what the comment could possibly have implied. Could Selphie have inadvertently let slip something that had jeopardized his standing? He turned to the final page, his eyes reaching the bottom and coming to a rest on the final score printed in significantly larger font beside the headmaster's stamped seal: _'SeeD Rank: 10'_.

 _This has_ got _to be a mistake_ , he instantly thought, flipping the report back to the front to ensure it was indeed his name printed on the cover sheet. Surely enough, it bore the unmistakable label of 'Leonhart, Squall'.

His eyes remained widened in amazement, as his mind struggled to process the absurdity of the results. Against all odds, he had somehow achieved the nigh impossible to attain a double-digit SeeD ranking on the field exam, despite having effectively aided and abetted treason. He reopened the file to peruse the pages once more, attempting to make sense of the logical incongruity. His eyes rapidly skimmed over the array of numerical figures and statistics, coming to a hand-written summary on the second-to-last page:

 _Leonhart has proven himself an inimitable close-quarters combatant, in addition to being among the very few cadets to have displayed such expertise with gunblade-class weaponry. His professional demeanor and workmanlike attitude is that of the model soldier, and his astuteness has been noted by squad adviser Trepe upon securing the designated area. Of most important note however is Leonhart's observed inclination toward a role of leadership, effectively stepping up to command his squad in lieu of the de-facto captain's dereliction, and his refusal to leave behind an incapacitated comrade in the face of almost certain death._

Squall promptly performed a double-take to ensure he was not hallucinating the very script printed upon the paper.

' _Inclination toward a role of leadership'!?_

The thought was so far removed from reality that it boggled the mind. He could not begin to fathom that the administration could have taken whatever testimony Selphie had told them at face-value. He was no leader, and to be now held to such a standard was far more than he could accept.

"And with that," the headmaster snapped him back to his immediate surroundings. "The SeeD inauguration is concluded. You are all dismissed."

The large assembly of new SeeDs saluted once more, before turning and slowly beginning to trickle toward the large double doors at the rear end of the hall. The murmuring din arose again as the headmaster ducked into the adjoining side door to his private chambers, followed by his two aides. The room's occupancy dwindled steadily, Zell and Selphie eventually strolling up to him sporting a pair of radiant smiles.

"We did it, man!" Zell exclaimed in triumph as the three began making their way to the doors.

"Somehow," Squall muttered in irritation at his persistent enthusiasm.

"I ended up getting Rank 8!" Selphie beamed. "My report says they appreciated the guts I had to follow you guys all the way up the mountain."

"I got a seven," Zell half-moaned. "I got points docked for bickering with Seifer on the way there. Even after all that's happened, they're still calling it antagonizing a superior."

"You should be grateful we made it at all," Squall bluntly reminded him as they reached the elevator and stepped aboard.

"I know," he replied, pressing the button for the main floor. "It just kinda ticks me off that it's all down to him in the end that I lost points. But hey, what did you get?"

"See for yourself," Squall flippantly passed his report to him as the capsule doors slid shut, and the lift began to descend. Zell accepted the file and turned to the last page quickly, his eyes widening and jaw hanging open as he took note of the score.

" _Ten!?_ " he gasped in disbelief. "How's _that_ work!?"

"Oh, congratulations, Squall!" Selphie cheered. "I made sure to put in a good word for both of you, and I'm really happy it payed off!"

"What did you tell them, exactly?"

"Nothing that wasn't true," she insisted. "You both really did your best out there, and you saved my life. I didn't get a chance to thank you before… so, thanks!"

Squall had no idea what to think. It was true that he could not have lived with himself had he simply left Selphie to die; ditzy and overly-excitable as she was, two personality traits he possessed little tolerance for, he knew that to be one thing he could not bear to have hanging on his conscious for the rest of his life. One noble deed did not a competent leader make, however. It was a level of responsibility he realized he could never hope to live up to, and one that directly opposed his own code of ethics.

"It's nothing," he replied as the lift slowed to the bottom and the glass doors parted.

 _The only person worth looking out for is yourself,_ he silently affirmed as he stepped out of the elevator with his eyes absentmindedly trained to the floor. _'Inclination toward leadership' my-_

His train of thought was suddenly derailed as his way was obstructed by a pair of black boots and familiar grey coattails, the very same he had laid eyes on just before having his still-fresh scar cleaved into his features three days earlier. Raising his gaze, he met the emotionless face of the man who bore its twin, Fujin and Raijin standing to his rear on either side. To his own right, Squall heard the squeak of Zell's sneakers as he shifted his footing on the polished linoleum floor, preparing for an impending confrontation. All was quiet, save for the footsteps and faint muttering of students on the outer ring of the atrium and the trickling water from the nearby fountains. Seifer continued to stare blankly between the three for an uncomfortably long time, before a pursed smile finally overtook his lips. Not a derisive smirk as Squall had become accustomed to, but a genuine look of approval. And then he began to slowly clap before them, his two lackeys joining in after a moment's hesitation.

 _Is he mocking us?_

"Congratulations!" he declared, ceasing the light applause and extending his hand. "You made the cut. Looks like you've got what it takes to go the distance, after all."

"Who _are_ you?" Squall reacted incredulously, still unable to determine if it were indeed sarcasm. The alternative was so out of character that it should not have even registered as a possibility.

"Oh, come on!" he feigned disappointment. "Credit where it's due, and all. Don't leave me hangin' here!"

"He's bein' serious, y'know?" Raijin insisted from behind him. "Jus' shake his hand, already!"

"Truce!" Fujin blurted out.

Squall glanced to Zell by his side, his left eye between the tattooed tendrils on his face raised in skepticism at their disgraced captain's strange behavior. He too appeared utterly perplexed, but met Squall's questioning look with a shrug. Reluctantly, he turned back to his rival and extended his own hand in return, the two firmly shaking without incident. That there came no attempt to pull him into a headlock as he would have suspected was the biggest surprise of all.

"Why're you so cheery?" Zell asked as their handshake broke. "I figured you'd be pissed for weeks, at least."

"It does kinda suck," he admitted. "They're doubling my training regiment, and making me do community service all around here. Grounds-keeping, helping with the Garden Festival, they're even putting me on the catering staff for tonight. But I'm not gonna let this set me back. I've still got one more shot next year, and I'm gonna make it count!"

"Resolve!" Fujin quipped again.

"That's the spirit!" Selphie cheered, her hands clasped before her chest in excitement. "And I'm on the festival planning committee! I'll be sure to help you get settled in!"

"I'd appreciate that," he smiled in return, a more unnerving reaction than any fit of rage Squall had ever witnessed from him.

The strikingly unusual change of attitude in his rival left him at a complete loss for words; this surely could not be the same Seifer he had known for so many years. There had to be some manner of ulterior rationale behind his calm and collected demeanor, which only served to unsettle Squall ever more as he passively observed the scene playing out before him.

"So, Squall," Seifer addressed him. "You heading to the ball tonight?"

"… sorry," he responded after a moment to recollect his thoughts. "Not my thing."

"You serious!?" Zell reeled. "It's the biggest day of your life, and you're just not going to show up?"

"Yeah, what gives?" Selphie insisted. "It's gonna be real swanky from what I hear! Live music, dancing, a full banquet with an open bar, and who knows?"

She slyly leaned in towards him and playfully elbowed his right arm.

"Maybe we can help score you a hot date while we're at it."

Squall's curiosity was suddenly piqued at her words.

"Did you say 'open bar'?"

* * *

The starry night sky glimmered and sparkled through the glass-domed ceiling of the ballroom, with not a cloud in sight to obstruct its beauty. Below, SeeDs newly inducted and long tenured alike milled about the festivities with their dates. Many danced in the open circular expanse in the center, elegantly and romantically swaying with one another to the tune of the Balamb Garden chamber orchestra on the stage. Others chatted by the banquet tables and fully stocked bar situated to the side, or retreated to the numerous balconies lining the outer rim of the hall in search of a more secluded and intimate environment. All was merry and jovial, the celebratory atmosphere a stark contrast from the battlefield many had faced mere days ago.

Squall propped himself up against one of the many golden archways, clad in his brand new black and gold-rimmed formal wear as he observed the gaiety dispassionately. His precise measurements had been provided to the Garden faculty ahead of the field exam, so as to allow the tailoring staff ample time to fashion a uniform designed to suit his physique. Having examined himself in his bedroom mirror upon receiving it earlier that afternoon, he could confirm that the attire indeed cut an exceptionally sleek figure on him, from the lightly ornamented shoulder imprints down to the solid black boots. A bubbling glass of champagne occupied his right hand, rising to his lips at regular intervals like clockwork. It was his second of the night thus far, and he could imagine at least several more re-fills would be on the way soon enough. Though the legal drinking age was technically eighteen, none of the catering staff could be bothered to check student IDs on such an occasion, with most of the other faculty present seeming to acknowledge it was not a night to be hung up by such minutiae. It was far from Squall's first experience with alcohol, and though he was not a heavy drinker by any metric, he knew it would take much more than a measly two glasses to attain his desired level of inebriation.

The night had begun well enough, the SeeDs having assembled in uniform alongside their accompanying partners to the beginning strains of the orchestra. Each attendee was permitted to bring along a date for the occasion, SeeD or non. The then-cadets had no doubt asked their prospective companions weeks in advance, a provisional invitation on the grounds that they indeed graduated. They had been required to forward the information to their respective instructor prior to the exam as a precaution, so that in the event the candidate in question did not pass, their date would still be permitted to attend by themselves if so inclined with proof of their identity. There had been yet another congratulatory speech from the headmaster to begin the proceedings, as well as a few brief words from the mayor of Balamb who had been known to traditionally attend with his wife each year. Both had garnered a tremendous ovation from all, followed by a toast to the new graduates before the ball proper at last commenced.

It was not petty jealousy of the merrily dancing couples that had relegated Squall to the sidelines, but inadequacy, an unshakable feeling that he had no business to be standing in the midst of such jubilation. He had finally achieved his long standing goal of becoming a SeeD, and received higher marks than he could have ever expected. The title he had trained so hard for had been bestowed upon him, and yet when considering the dubious surrounding circumstances, he could not bring himself to believe he had properly earned it. He felt hollow, disconcerted that the moment he had built up in his mind for so long had finally arrived, only to leave him so disillusioned and questioning of his own worthiness. Worse still, Squall could not keep his restless mind from reflecting upon Seifer's talk of chasing his dream, and how with his own solitary ambition now fulfilled, he was left with nothing more to aspire towards. What would come next? Where would he go with his life now? What purpose did he have left to give his very existence meaning?

 _Maybe if I drink enough I'll stop caring altogether…_

He took another swig of champagne, savoring the bubbly flavor as it trickled down his throat, and raised his eyes skyward. It was indeed a beautiful night, the stars and moon lighting up the void beyond the spotless glass dome above, rendered ever more prominent by the lingering glow of the Garden's giant flotation ring rimming the outer edges. A strange semblance of nostalgia washed over him, as if the sheer serenity had reached out to him and touched upon a long forgotten remnant of his psyche. The hairs on his sleeved arms stood to attention as he could almost feel a peaceful breeze sweep across his body, bringing to mind the sound of crashing waves and the scent of saltwater for reasons he could not understand. He had certainly not had the time to admire such nuances on the shores of either Balamb or Dollet as of late.

He was snapped back to reality as a shooting star passed right before his eyes, arcing across the expanse and dipping down as if to land in the center of the ballroom itself. He traced the twinkling swathe it had cut across the sky, his vision falling back to the dance floor ahead where oblivious couples continued to elegantly waltz with one another. Staring upward in the midst of the fluidly swaying dancers, slightly outside of the center stood a young woman with flowing dark hair, clad in a white halter dress. She appeared to be somewhere around his own age, though her lack of a uniform implied she was not a SeeD of any distinction. She lowered her gaze slowly, turning her head to look about before eventually coming to a rest on Squall, who met her deep brown eyes. She flashed him a smile and brought a single finger pointed upward before her.

' _You saw it, too?'_ she seemed to be gesturing.

Squall quickly averted his eyes from hers; he was in no mood to socialize in his presently conflicted state of mind. Coming to the understanding that he was wasting his time attempting to drink his worries away, he considered if it might be a more prudent use of the night to return to his dorm and begin organizing his belongings for re-location. In addition to his promotion, he would be receiving his own individual living quarters sometime in the next week, for which he would need to be fully packed up for the moving staff's arrival. He extended his arm outward to set his half-finished drink down on the nearby pedestal and take his leave, when the approaching sound of clacking heels halted him in mid-motion. He turned his eyes back to the dance floor to see the smiling young woman had begun making her way over to him. As she drew near, he took note of the six caramel-colored highlights running through her black hair, three on either side of her rounded face.

"You know," she started in a sweet, slightly seductive tone. "I think you might be the best looking guy here."

"If you say so," he casually brushed her off, taking another swig of his drink. He had assumed his new scar alone would have been an effective deterrent from any potential unwanted advances. It appeared there could be no accounting for differing tastes, however.

"What do you say to a dance?" she offered her hand.

 _You must be kidding._

"Not interested," he bluntly replied, taking another sip on reflex.

"Aw, why not?" she pouted. "It's just one dance. You've been standing over here by yourself the whole time. Don't you want to loosen up a bit? Or… are you one of those types who'll only dance with someone he likes?"

"Sure, let's go with that," he muttered, swigging back yet more champagne to calm the growing irritation.

"Alright, then," she puffed, stepping even further forward into his personal space, to the point where she was more or less pinning him to the wall. He did not dare attempt to push her off, knowing the unwanted attention it would garner, as she looked directly into his eyes, their noses almost touching.

"You're going to like me," she began to chant in an obviously faux-mystic intonation. "You're going to like me."

 _I'm going to hate you._

"Did it work?" she innocently questioned as she stepped back.

 _She's even worse than Selphie,_ he realized as he began to lift the glass to his lips once more, but stopped at having caught the tic he was beginning to develop.

At the rate the girl's unrequited flirting had progressed, he understood he would likely end up drinking himself into a stupor before she finally took the hint. While doing so had been the primary incentive for his attendance to begin with, he had hoped to indulge himself on his own terms rather than at the mercy of such a meddlesome nuisance. With an exasperated and labored sigh, he begrudgingly set the glass down upon the nearby pedestal and looked her straight in the eyes once more.

"I can't dance," he lied.

"Oh, you'll be fine," she grinned mischievously, suddenly grabbing hold of his wrist and pulling him from the wall without warning. Squall anxiously stumbled in trying to right his footing, as the girl literally dragged him along into the crowd of dancing couples.

"I'm looking for someone, and I can't be out here on the dance floor by myself!"

"I don't care what you-" he started before jerking to a halt as she stopped upon reaching the center.

He could have easily overpowered her and broken free, but once again recognized the unfavorable picture it would paint for him to start getting physical with a girl in the middle of the hall. She forcibly moved his left hand to her waist, taking his right in her left and placing her free hand on his shoulder. She paused for a moment, and swiftly set her feet in motion as the next measure of the waltz came around, whisking him away into a dance he wanted no part of. He purposefully stifled his own movement, hoping that if he simply acted as though he had already been over-served at the bar, she would be inclined to give up. The girl did not cease, practically lugging him around like a dead weight as he stumbled along with two left feet. It was not long before his willful negligence resulted in a collision with another couple on the floor.

"Hey!" the male SeeD exclaimed upon impact, letting go of his own dance partner and turning to face Squall. "Watch where you're going, buddy!"

"Sorry," he feigned an apology, and started away from his captor. He needed to get some fresh air immediately before he blew a gasket.

"Wait!" she insistently grabbed his sleeve from behind, his frustration flaring to new levels as he felt her fingers snag hold of his uniform. He furiously swiveled back around to finally give her a piece of his mind, only to be met with a sweet, understanding smile upon her fair features.

"Please… I can tell you're faking it. Relax, okay? Tonight's supposed to be about having fun, right?"

Squall's swelling anger immediately deflated, finding himself confused and unsure of how to respond. With all that had transpired in the last few days, with all the weight and uncertainty that had accrued upon his mind, enjoying himself had been rendered dead-last on his list of priorities. He had come to the ball to drown his sorrows, to drink his worries away until they no longer mattered to him, only to find it had been no use. And here was this precocious young girl, who had appeared to him from the blue to offer the release he longed for, and in his rigid detachment he had tried to shoot her down for it. She continued to offer him a boon even now, as she gazed at him with those pleading brown eyes, and still he stubbornly refused to take it.

"I… I guess _one_ dance won't kill me," he muttered taking her hand once more. She beamed at him as she placed her own on his shoulder once again, and after several more beats, the pair began anew.

Squall took the lead, as the two pranced and twirled about to the jovial waltz. The girl matched his movements perfectly and followed him with superb fluidity and grace; clearly she had taken lessons, as had he as part of the Garden's espionage training seminar several years before. They elegantly intertwined and parted in tandem, continuing on for several minutes in the presence of their contemporaries. Despite his initial reluctance, by the end even Squall was forced to admit he was enjoying himself. She was the ideal dancing partner, far more skilled on her feet than many a cadet he had practiced with, and genuinely very pretty besides.

The waltz at last drew to a close, the orchestra finishing with a drawn out rubato as the two drew each other in, Squall's left hand firmly on her waist as the fingertips of his right met hers. A genuine happiness had risen in his chest, perking the corners of his lips ever so slightly as they stared upon one another, seemingly frozen in time. He gazed longingly at her angelic face, and for that one single lingering moment, more so than at any other time he could remember, he felt truly alive.

The illusion was abruptly shattered by a sudden burst of applause from all around, Squall's attention drawn to the conductor on the stage taking his bow. He quickly righted himself again and turned back to face the orchestra, flipping the score upon his stand to the next piece and raising his baton once more. Squall returned his vision to his dance partner, noticing her own gaze had traveled over his shoulder in the interim. She turned her eyes back to him, and slowly removed herself from their embrace.

"See ya," she hastily quipped with a wink and a small wave, taking her leave in the direction she had been looking.

He turned to call her back, to plead that she stay with him just a moment longer, but she was already half-way across the divide to the wall. As he watched her white dress vanish into the crowd of SeeDs that had gathered near the banquet tables, the all-encompassing misery returned as quickly as it had faded. The orchestra began again, this time to a romantic slow dance, and the couples strewn about the dance floor started up again. He stood alone in the center of it all, his head hung as he was left to dwell on the too brief encounter.

He had reluctantly opened himself up, permitted himself to be vulnerable with another for the first time, and had felt real elation and peace of mind in the moment. And yet in allowing himself be so easily swept away, he had forgotten the most important truth of all: to be reliant on others for emotional support was to be rendered incapable and weakened. Nothing lasted forever, least of all the affection of others, and to become dependent on anyone would only lead to his undoing when the time eventually came that he lost everything. He had foolishly let himself be caught up in his own emotions, and now that the moment was over, he was left with exactly that: nothing.

 _And this,_ he moped as he dragged himself off the dance-floor to the vacant adjoining balcony. _This is why I don't even bother…_

* * *

It had truly been a sight to behold. Never before had Quistis seen Squall so genuinely invested with another than for those few minutes he had danced with the girl in white. She had observed the waltz from afar, captivated by the grace with which they moved, and left to wonder all the while what the mysterious young woman could have done to have drawn such an uncharacteristic response from him. She had attempted countless times over the years to do the same, only to have been so easily beaten to the punch in a single night. It filled her with happiness at the sight of Squall finally starting to come out of his shell, and an unmistakable pang of jealously that had begun nibbling away at her from within. She understood such feelings had no place in her heart; it was her duty as an instructor to remain impartial and interact with students on a professional level at all times.

' _Was'_ , she solemnly reminded herself as the audience applauded the orchestra and the black-haired girl stepped away from Squall with a faint wave, making her way across the room. Squall remained fixed to the spot, staring after her as the music started up again and the surrounding graduates and their dates began to dance once more. He stood solemnly with his head hung, seeming to be taking it personally that she had apparently had her fill for the evening, and slowly started out of the center to one of the archways leading to an outdoor balcony.

Quistis sidestepped many a bystander and approaching dancer as she worked her way around the room's circumference, eventually coming to the opened doorway leading to the breathtaking vista. From the fifteenth floor of the Garden, the balcony offered a superb view of the forested plains leading to the distant Gaulg mountain range to the north. The snow left upon their frigid peaks glistened even from afar in the shine of the moonlight, as their immediate surroundings too were illuminated by the shimmering floating halo-ring atop the academy. Squall stood hunched upon the metallic banister, arms crossed as he gazed out over the wide expanse. Noting his suddenly unresponsive and distant demeanor, Quistis began to reconsider if it were indeed the ideal time to be disturbing him, but with the privacy the veranda currently provided, there seemed no more opportune moment.

"You… really are an excellent student," she began, fumbling for a conversation starter. "Even that dance was perfect."

Squall did not turn his head in acknowledgment of the compliment, allowing a significant pause to linger before he spoke in a low voice, barely audible above the music to their backs.

"Oh… you saw?"

"Yeah," she replied as she made her way to the banister beside him and leaned over, crossing her own arms in imitation. "Whatever brought that on?"

"Is there something you want?" he questioned irritably.

"So you'll dance with someone you don't even know, but can't stand being around me?"

"You're an instructor," he muttered, his tone devoid of emotion. "I'm your student. It's awkward."

"Well then," Quistis sighed deeply, slumping further into the railing. "I guess every cloud _does_ have a silver lining."

She let the ominous foreshadowing hang between the two, hoping it would serve to pique Squall's interest as she gathered her thoughts to explain. The earlier meeting with the administration and the headmaster had been swift and deliberate. No time had been wasted in determining the proper course of action, which had undoubtedly been discussed in advance over the course of the previous three days. She had seen the writing on the wall from far off, and yet to have actually heard such harsh words spoken to her still felt entirely unreal. Headmaster Cid being the kind soul that he was had handled the proceedings with a gentle and empathetic touch; he had genuinely seemed saddened by the measures that were deemed necessary. The faculty had been merciless by contrast, and had told her in no uncertain terms that the experiment that had been her tenure was a failure.

"Effective immediately," she quavered in lieu of no reaction from Squall. "I, Quistis Trepe… am no longer an instructor. I'm just a normal SeeD operative now, like you."

It pained her to verbalize, but that was precisely why she had come. Her dream was at an end, and she desperately needed to relieve the grief from her pounding chest.

"Who knows?" she continued, trying her hardest to crack a smile. "Maybe we'll end up working on a mission together sometime."

"Oh," he finally spoke up. "Really?"

"That's it?" she questioned with exasperation. " _That's_ all you're going to say?"

"What am I _supposed_ to say? If that's how it was decided, then you have to abide by it."

Quistis slumped again, feeling the light breeze sweep her golden fringes across her face as she stared out across the dark plains. Squall was right; there was no method for appeal, no second chance to salvage her position. It would stay as a black mark upon her otherwise spotless record, definitively proclaiming her unfit for the responsibility she had been trusted with.

"They told me that I failed as an instructor," she elaborated. "That I lacked leadership qualities, and that it was a mistake for them to have given the promotion to someone so inexperienced. Of course, they used the episode with Seifer as the chief evidence of that. Apparently I wasn't strict enough, didn't discipline my students the way they wanted. I just..."

She paused, a lump beginning to form in the back of her throat as she fought to eek her words out.

"That… wasn't the kind of instructor I wanted to be. I thought I could do things differently, make friends out of my students instead of being strict and uncaring towards them. I tried my best… I really did. I wonder where I went wrong… are you listening?"

"Are you done yet?" Squall snapped as he rose from the banister. "Why are you dumping this all on me? What do you expect me to say to all of this?"

"I'm not asking you to say _anything!_ " Quistis quickly responded, now actively fighting back tears as she shot up straight from the railing to face him. "I just want you to listen!"

"Then go talk to a wall!" he exploded. "I'm in no mood to listen to someone else's emotional blathering. I've got my own issues, and I don't need any more on my mind."

"Then _tell_ me!" she cried. "I've said it before, that I'm always here if you need someone to talk to! Aren't there times when you want to share your feelings with someone? Just to make everything feel a bit better?"

"Never," he coldly spoke as he turned back to the ballroom. "Everyone has to take care of themselves. The world is cruel, and you have to face it on your own. I don't want to carry anyone else's burden."

"Do you..." she stammered, the first watery trails beginning to run down her cheeks as she attempted to balance herself against the guardrail. "Do you really believe that? That everyone can just get by on their own? Last I remember, it was me who saved you from that… _thing_ back on the beach."

"And maybe you should have done me a favor and just left me to die."

With not a word more, he strode back into the ballroom in a visible huff, leaving Quistis by herself to grieve upon the starlit balcony. She buried her head in her arms upon the ledge, the tears spilling from her eyes uncontrollably.

 _No leadership qualities… failed instructor… perhaps they're right…_


	8. Chapter 6 - First Assignment

6

 **CHAPTER 6 – FIRST ASSIGNMENT**

The blade firmly embedded itself into the thick trunk of the erected wooden training dummy, whittling a sizable divot into its side with an audible thunk. It was the umpteenth of innumerable tattering the crudely constructed mannequin, many of which were not Squall's own to begin with. Had he pulled the trigger upon impact, it would doubtless have sliced the rigid log body clean in two. He was at the very least conscientious enough not to needlessly destroy a shared piece of training equipment, to speak nothing of wasting his own ammunition. The gunblade utilized a special caliber of explosive round that was expensive to manufacture, for which he had been allotted a strict yearly budget for replacements. Any additional expenditures would come directly out of his own pocket, and so he had resultantly become exceedingly frugal in his use of the trigger function.

Squall hefted the blade from out of the newly incised gash, and proceeded to further practice his form and strikes by way of the stationary adversary in the open clearing. He had returned to his casual attire of all black with fringes of sheer white, though had temporarily removed the leather bomber jacket in the midst of the artificially induced tropical climate around him. The Garden training center was the largest of the ground-level facilities by a significant margin, being a densely forested stretch of lush wilderness taking up most of the eastern end of the academy. Despite the striking beauty and verdure of the surrounding botanical environment however, it was no place for a leisurely walk in the park. More than a mere sparring ground for students to hone their combat skills, its wide expanse served to house a host of captive wildlife imported from afar, some even vicious monsters brought across the sea from the ruined continent of Centra. The massive domed ceiling climbed high toward the Garden's upper levels, its peak lined by dozens of floodlights illuminating the gargantuan incubator below.

It had been eight days since the night of the inauguration ball, which had passed without significant incident. The funerary proceedings had been held for the fallen cadets and SeeDs who had given their lives on the battlefield, their respective families and friends having gathered on the Garden grounds for an extensive memorial service. Squall had finally moved into his own standalone quarters, which were far roomier and more spacious by contrast to his old dorm, and still featuring an attached personal bathroom for convenience. After having spent several more days recuperating from the events of the previous week, he had finally regained the inclination to recommence his daily training regimen. Despite his best efforts to maintain his composure in doing so however, his renewed vigor had done little to take his mind off the infuriating manner in which Quistis had approached him in the midst of the ball.

 _Who the hell does she think she is?_

He fiercely removed another massive chunk from the fore of the dummy in his frustration, swiftly averting his eyes to avoid the splintery shrapnel that ensued. How dare she so casually use him as a sounding board to unleash her own emotional diarrhea upon? Squall was no confidant nor a therapist, and wanted no part in being roped into the personal dilemmas of others. That she had shown the nerve to use her selfish plea for pity to disguise such a transparent attempt at swooping in on him in a vulnerable state only magnified the sheer amount of insult he felt. He had never considered himself to be the most savvy with regard to matters of interpersonal relationships, largely due to his complete aversion to the very concept. Even so, Quistis' blatant over-attachment and favoritism toward him over the years had been so obvious that even he could easily deduce where her motives truly lay. There was a reason Seifer had teased the two of them upon their withdrawal from Dollet. At the very least, he was grateful not to have crossed her path in the last week. For that matter, he had neither caught sight of the mysterious dark-haired beauty he had danced with in the time since.

 _That's probably for the best_ , he affirmed as he raised his weapon in preparation for another downward strike. _I must have been out of my mind to-_

His train of thought and impending slash were both halted in mid-motion as a pair of bloodcurdling shrieks erupted from the nearby woods, one after the other; the first clearly bestial in nature, the second the shrill cry of a woman. He fell out of his fighting stance at once and turned to face the direction of the screams, the roar of rampant deforestation reaching his ears from afar. A series of faint tremors met his feet as the trees presumably came tumbling down in the distance, forcing him to spread his legs to maintain balance. Whatever monstrous creature had been disturbed, it was clearly a beast well beyond the average cadet's abilities.

Not even pausing to collect his jacket from the small rock formation he had draped it upon, Squall at once took off through the thicket of foliage toward the source of the pandemonium, ducking branches and slicing away all manner of extraneous obstruction. All the while the monster's infernal shrieking continued, the sound of rapid-fire spellcraft coming into earshot as he drew nearer; whoever had the misfortune to have incensed the savage beast seemed to at the very least be putting up a worthy struggle. He hoped that his intervention would ultimately not be necessary by the time he arrived on the scene. Based purely on the timbre of the woman's previous scream, it was entirely possible it was Quistis, which led him to wonder if he would be better off staying out of the proceedings altogether.

He finally broke through the last of the obtrusive thicket, coming to another large open clearing not dissimilar to the one he had vacated. The ringed circumference of vegetation was broken at the northwest corner by a trail of ruined palm trees, ripped up and snapped in twain. From the wide path of destruction slithered an utterly disgusting, green plant-like creature upon eight thick porous tentacles. Its bulbous body was half-comprised of a gigantic gaping maw lined with innumerable razor-sharp teeth, surrounded by at least a dozen eyeballs protruding from as many deformed and bent stalks. It was nothing less than a sickening abomination of nature, or rather a malboro. Though Squall had never before laid eyes upon one in the flesh, the grotesque images he had examined in his biology studies were not something to be forgotten so easily.

Before the salivating plant-monster stood not a woman as he had distinctly heard just moments before, but a pair of young men clad in strange beige uniforms the likes of which Squall had never seen. Their shoulders bore patches of dark brown not dissimilar from the silver design which adorned a standard cadet uniform, while their foreheads each sported a cream-colored headband securing their hair in place. The two faced down the malboro, luring it off to the side of the clearing as they continued to hurl spells at its fearsome visage. Lightning flew from the fingers of one, sizzling upon impact and eliciting yet another furious screech from the beast. It reared back from the blast, a squelching bubbling of fluid audibly gathering in its throat as it prepared to spew forth a counterattack of its own. From its gullet flew a giant glob of phlegm-like substance, intercepted in mid flight as the second combatant conjured a maroon reflective energy field before them. The acidic liquid rapidly ate its way through the erected barrier, leaving the two vulnerable once more.

With the creature's back presently turned to him, Squall quickly sheathed his gunblade, activated the sphere clipped to his belt at once, and proceeded to channel the energy which began to spill forth from the metallic containment vessel as fast as it would materialize. He firmly shut his eyes in concentration, willing himself to block out the ever deafening shrieks of the monster. He could feel the fiery aura surround his body, a burning flame that seemed to engulf his very soul as he reached out before him. He opened his eyes at last, as he cast the energy from his frame, the blaze seeming to come alive as it danced and twirled of its own accord in the open divide. A moment later, the hellfire began to take shape, a veritable demon emerging from the inferno in a flash of light.

The freshly arrived creature that appeared before him stood on two legs, sporting intimidating musculature and positively towering above him at an easy nine feet. Its dark brown skin was complimented by radiant crimson fur running from its mane, the face it framed akin to a feral lion whose eyes glowed with an unnatural light. Twin obsidian horns extended from the top of its head, each curving down its back to end in a jagged scythe shape. The demonic apparition roared, the malboro swiveling to face the new threat and meeting its challenge with a screech of its own. Squall remained fastened to the spot, arm outstretched with every ounce of his focus set squarely on sustaining the summon as he had trained for years.

Flames erupted from the palms of the demon's wicked claws, further illuminating the clearing and threatening to set the entire surrounding biosphere ablaze. It snarled viciously as it suddenly charged forward, dodging an incoming blast of acid as it cleared the distance to its designated adversary. The two beige-clad combatants retreated slightly toward the edge of the foliage, and shielded their eyes against the intensifying flares. The humanoid beast finally closed the gap with the malboro, leaping high into the air and casting both of its hands down upon the monster from above. A sea of fire spilled forth from its palms, spreading rapidly across the plant-creature's slimy figure as it let out an agonized scream. The demon cleared the jump and landed on the opposite side of the thrashing and flailing funeral pyre which now occupied the center of the expanse. With one final shriek, the mutant plant slumped its wholly charred body and lay still, as billowing black smoke rose to the domed ceiling high above.

Squall at last released his focus, allowing the figure of the horned beast to slowly evaporate away into the aura from which it had sprung. He fell to his knee in exhaustion as it fully dissipated, having put all he had into the Guardian Force to unleash an inferno of such magnitude. Raising his head, he noted the uniformed young men on the opposing side of the clearing turn to one another, nod in tandem, and split off in separate directions. One circled the smoldering corpse to his position, while the other rushed to the eastern edge of the ring of vegetation.

"Young miss!" he called out to the general vicinity. "Are you alright? Please come out at once!"

A rustle kicked up in the nearby bushes as the second youth reached Squall to help him to his feet. From the thicket stumbled a dainty figure, her off-white skirt appearing to be caught in the brush as the bodyguard rushed over to help her. She wore a light-blue, sleeveless blouse with a white collar, her dark-brown hair cut short and barely touching the tops of her shoulders. What immediately caught Squall's attention however was the green shawl she wore wrapped around her, running behind her waist and crossing over both arms. There could be no mistaking its resemblance: this was the girl from the infirmary he had awoken to find by his bedside eleven days earlier.

"It is not safe here," the uniformed attendant politely informed her. "Please, let us be on our way."

The young woman nodded, her large brown eyes turning to meet Squall's from across the divide. She stared at him for several tentative moments, seeming at a loss for words, before averting her gaze to follow her escort to safety.

"Thank you for your assistance," the second bodyguard spoke to him as the two made their way around the malboro's charred remains. "You may go."

"Hold on a minute," Squall insisted as he pivoted, reaching out his hand as he attempted to make his way after the young woman. He was abruptly stopped in his tracks as the aide's own firmly clamped down on his wrist threateningly.

" _Thank you_ for your assistance," he repeated in a far more aggressive tone as he stared him directly in the eyes. "You may _go_."

Squall recognized he was far too winded from having conjured the summon to re-engage in combat so quickly, much less against two enemies should the other attendant double-back to assist his comrade. Both were clearly formidable fighters in their own right, and surely could have dispatched the malboro themselves had they not been preoccupied with drawing it away from their mysterious charge. There was little to be gained from sparking unnecessary conflict with a group he knew nothing about. He relaxed his outstretched arm, the young man letting his wrist go in response and hurrying on ahead to catch up with his entourage. Squall watched the three trot with purpose along the ruined path that had been cleared away, making haste in the direction of the training center's exit.

Struggling to piece together the events that had transpired, he proceeded to retrace his steps through the foliage in the opposite direction, making his way back to the clearing in which he had temporarily abandoned his leather jacket. The path he had quite literally cut through the thicket had rendered it a simple matter of following the straight and narrow trail to the source. Moments later, he re-emerged, retrieved the jacket from its perch upon the rock formation he had left it atop, and slipped into it as he began the trek back to the entry airlock. He was still left to wonder just who the young woman with the shawl was, and why she had come to visit him in the infirmary in the first place, his confusion only continuing to mount when considering the matter of her two bodyguards. Given their possession of Guardian Forces, they had evidently been SeeDs of some designation, however their uniforms appeared unlike any Squall had ever seen in all his years at the Garden. He began to consider the possibility they may have been members of a newly organized regiment following the field exam, but could not recall any mention of such a group's establishment from the headmaster. Who they were and what their connection was to this mysterious girl he could not even begin to guess.

"Whatever," he muttered aloud as he traipsed down the connecting corridor back to the atrium. It was all immaterial to him at this point. Between Quistis, the girl from the ball and this latest encounter, he had already spent an inordinate amount of time and mental processing deliberating over his problems with women, despite knowing full well his efforts would be better spent making preparations for his new life as a SeeD.

"Squall!" a familiar voice called to him almost as soon as he stepped into the grand atrium.

From the outer walkway came Selphie jogging up to meet him, now outfitted in bright yellow casual-wear which positively popped out from the crowd of blue cadet uniforms she navigated. As she drew closer, he noted the attire in question to be an unusual cross between a tube-top and a pair of overalls; two thick straps over her shoulders supported the garment, with a lone silver zipper running down the front to where it ended as a mini-skirt around her upper thighs. She wore a pair of brown boots reaching halfway up her bare calves, their material appearing plush and soft-to-touch at a glance.

"I've been running all over looking for you!" she exclaimed as she reached him, smiling slightly even in her exhaustion. "And of course, I _still_ end up taking a few wrong turns and getting lost. The more things change, huh?"

"What do you need _me_ for?" he questioned. "If it's about the festival, I told you I'm not-"

"No, no," she assured him. "It's not me, it's the headmaster. We've got our first mission together."

"What!?" he sharply reacted, wondering what he could have possibly done to have deserved being forced into an assignment with her for a second time.

"Yeah, for real! And it sounds like it's gonna be a long one. We need to pack our stuff and assemble in the parking garage by 1900. Casual attire. Apparently it's gonna be a covert operation. Oh, and Zell's coming along too!"

Squall's mind exploded.

* * *

"One more minute", the Thorn spoke bluntly, returning the gilded pocket watch to his crimson robes.

"I would hope he'd be responsible enough not to be late for his first official assignment," Headmaster Cid spoke with a tinge of disappointment.

 _If it means we get grouped with someone else instead, I won't complain._

Squall waited impatiently alongside Selphie before the headmaster and his usual accompanying aides, the dim illumination of the parking garage's overhead lighting casting long shadows of their figures across the cement floor. They stood on the lowest level of the multi-tiered vehicle repository, beside the transport which had been pre-selected for their departure. Rather than the plated armored troop transports they had taken into town the day of the field exam, the silver convertible they had been allotted was of a far more sleek and nimble design, built for speed as opposed to durability. When considering their given directive to have brought along several changes of clothes, packed with his gunblade in the large duffel-bag Squall held by his side, it could be inferred they would be traveling a significant distance for what would likely prove a long-term assignment. The vehicle would only serve to shuttle them to the town of Balamb quickly, whereby they would transfer either by assault boat or the intercontinental railroad to reach their mission locale.

Since his induction into the ranks of SeeD the previous week, Squall had been expectant of being dispatched on his first real mission in the immediate future. What he could not possibly have foreseen was for his first assigned squad to be comprised of the exact two fellow graduates he had begrudgingly fought alongside. Besides his general aversion to their radically differing personalities, the three of them were all fresh rookies. To simply send them out into the field on their own without an experienced operative to act as their leader seemed antithetical at best, and Squall had a sinking feeling he knew who among them would end up with that particular responsibility placed upon their shoulders. Could this have been yet another decision based upon his so-called 'inclination toward a role of leadership'? It was nothing more than a severe misunderstanding of his character, of which he was seriously considering informing the headmaster should his suspicions be confirmed.

The hum of a rapidly approaching engine from the mouth of the garage's tunnel roused him from his contemplation. The motor continued to draw closer at an alarming rate, Selphie and the headmaster preemptively covering their ears as the sound reverberated off the walls and echoed throughout the vast car-park. Squall instinctively brought his arms up before him in defense as a blur of red and blue suddenly shot from the tunnel, decelerating quickly as it drifted to a halt by their side. Zell rode onto the scene atop a sleek Turbine Board, roughly as long as he was tall. The motorized slab of metal hovered several inches above the ground, lowering as he disengaged the engine with his foot. He was outfitted in a black jacket with red linings to match his shoes, baggy blue jean-shorts, and his signature studded leather gloves on either hand. In his right he held a duffel-bag not unlike Squall and Selphie's own, stepping off with a grin directed at the pair.

"Just made it!" he exclaimed, kicking the board up and catching it with his free hand. "Sorry 'bout the wait. Had some last minute stuff to take care of."

"T-Boards are prohibited on the Garden premises," the Thorn to Cid's left chided him. "Have you forgotten?"

"Oh!" Zell reeled in embarrassment. "Sorry! But I was just really in a hurry. And besides, this thing could really come in handy on a mission someday!"

"We will be the judges of that," the aide responded, motioning to the second Thorn. "Confiscate it."

"Aw, you gotta be kidding!" Zell protested as his board was swiftly ripped from his grasp. "I modified that thing myself!"

The uncaring aide placed it under his arm and began toward the connecting hallway back to the atrium. Deflated and sulking, the blonde-haired youth fell in line with his comrades.

"Zell, you should know better," the headmaster spoke. "Next time plan ahead, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Remember this," the remaining Thorn interrupted. "And this goes for all three of you. You may be SeeD operatives, but you are still students of this Garden first and foremost. It is your responsibility to set an example your underclassmen and obey the rules to a tee. That goes doubly so for when you are in the field. Never forget that your actions and behavior have repercussions. Understood?"

Silence fell over the parking garage, as clear an acknowledgment as could be. Squall did not need to be reminded; he had long since internalized the expected discipline of a SeeD, and in turn developed a deadly serious and professional work-ethic to match. It was one of the few things that had been noted in his exam report for which he could bring himself to accept the extended praise.

"Headmaster, shall we begin the briefing?" the Thorn questioned.

"Indeed," Cid started, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat to address the three gathered before him. "Anyway, I understand that for all of you this will be your first official SeeD assignment, and that you must no doubt be anxious. However, know that I have the utmost confidence in the bonds you three share, and have grouped you together for this very reason. I am certain that with your combined wits and expertise, you will succeed no matter what obstacles you may face along this road."

Squall could not help but think the kindly old man to be somewhat senile in his assertion. To make such a statement of their supposed camaraderie after only one mission together was the epitome of absurdity. Outside of the occasional class or training session, Zell was the exact sort of person he purposefully went out of his way to completely disassociate with, to speak nothing of Selphie who the two of them had only just met on that very day a week before. Their teamwork had been purely a matter of circumstance, and by Squall's estimation there was virtually no chemistry to be observed between them.

"Regardless," the headmaster continued. "For this mission you will be heading to Timber. I assume you are all familiar with the geo-political climes of the region?"

"Of course!" Zell exclaimed proudly.

"More or less," Squall murmured.

"Uh," Selphie started with a fleeting look of shame. "Not quite. All I know is it's something to do with Galbadia, right?"

"Simply put," the headmaster clarified. "The Timber region was once a remnant nation which split off from the original Dollet empire centuries ago, much like Galbadia itself. For the last twenty years it has been under military occupation, which has in turn led to the uprising of several prominent resistance factions vying to drive out the Galbadians and regain independence. We have been contracted to provide support to one such faction, the Forest Owls. Your duties are simply to assist them in their plans and follow whatever orders you are given."

"And it's _just_ us three being sent?" Zell questioned.

"That is correct," the Thorn butted into the briefing. "We have agreed to take this assignment for very little money. Under normal circumstances we would never humor such a request, but at the headmaster's insistence-"

"Enough!" Cid suddenly snapped, prompting Squall to jerk his head to face him.

It was quite the unseemly outburst from the typically mild-mannered man, though considering the frequency with which he had witnessed him be talked over by his own attendants, Squall could not blame him for it. At the very least however, he had gleaned from this most recent interruption the real reason as to why they, a group of fresh graduates were being sent alone on this mission. At the end of the day, it really did come down to how much money was put on the table.

"As I was saying," the headmaster started up again with a light cough to compose himself. "You will provide support for the Forest Owls in their upcoming operations. You will take the 20:00 transcontinental express from Balamb. We have procured tickets for your own private cabin, as well as constructed fake IDs for your arrival. Please."

He motioned to the Thorn, who promptly produced a manila envelope from his robes and handed it to him.

"When you arrive at Timber Station, a member of the faction will initiate contact with you. He will say: 'The forests of Timber sure have changed'. The password is: 'But the owls are still around'. Do not forget. Squall, you are the squad leader for this operation."

 _How did I guess?_

"I expect you will use your best judgment to carry out the mission," Cid stated proudly as he offered the envelope to him with both arms. "I am confident you will perform to the best of your ability."

Squall stared for a moment at the manila file held outstretched before him, wondering if he ought to simply reject the responsibility outright and ask that another operative be assigned in his stead. He knew himself not to be leadership material. His was a disposition inclined toward following orders rather than giving them, if even that could still be considered true in light of having joined Seifer in his desertion. He understood that his very standing as a SeeD was nothing more than a sham, a stroke of sheer dumb luck that had bestowed him with a title he knew he did not deserve. That being the case however, in the face of a direct order from the headmaster himself, he could do little but graciously accept the envelope with both hands and bow in reverence.

"Zell, Selphie," Cid addressed his squadmates. "You are to follow Squall's commands and assist in carrying out the faction's plans."

"Yes, sir!" the two saluted together, Squall joining in as he placed the folder under his left arm.

"And that concludes the briefing," he nodded in acknowledgment. "I look forward to your safe return. Good luck!"

The three snapped out of their salute, Squall and Selphie retrieving their bags from the cement floor, and approached the silver convertible together.

"I'll drive!" Zell proclaimed as he threw his duffel-bag in the back seat and leaped over the driver's side door without opening it properly.

"Shotgun!" Selphie chimed in as she gently lowered her own into the vehicle and circled around to the opposite side.

Squall opened the back door as Zell started the ignition and the engine sputtered to life. He placed his own baggage along with the folder on the floor behind the driver's seat, and buckled his seat-belt as the car shifted into reverse and began to back up. The headmaster and his aide appeared to have already taken their leave to the rear. The convertible's trajectory lined up with the garage exit slowly, its headlights lighting up the dimly lit tunnel before them which seemed to stretch on forever into the void. Zell revved the engine several times before suddenly shifting into drive. The tires screeched, the sound at once breaking the stark silence of the parking garage as the car jolted forward and tore down the tunnel at top speed. Selphie whooped in exhilaration like a giddy child. Squall held on for dear life to the back of her headrest.

"Are you trying to get us killed before we even get to town!?" he hollered over the roar of the engine and the wind whipping through his thick dark hair.

"Aw, will you just let loose and have fun for once!?" Zell shouted back, the opening to the outside drawing near from up ahead. "I know what I'm doing!"

 _Maybe I'm actually getting my due punishment after all?_

Moments later the sports-car shot from the mouth, Zell expertly maneuvering around the upcoming curve as he merged onto the connecting motorway due southwest for Balamb. Squall craned his neck back against the oncoming gust of wind to gaze one more time upon the Garden, the massive conch shell-like structure beginning to shrink into the quickly falling twilight. He knew not how long their assignment would last, nor what adversities they would be faced with in the coming days, but as he took in the sight of the shimmering golden and silver halo tethered atop, a strange sinking feeling gathered in his gut. A lingering suspicion that when he again laid eyes upon his home, things would never be the same.

* * *

The road trip into town had proven uneventful, save for Zell's insistence on driving like a maniac despite having had plenty of time to reach the station; for a route that generally took twenty minutes to traverse at normal speeds, he had managed to cut their time of arrival down by nearly half. By the time they had pulled in through the town gates, there had still been more than forty minutes remaining before their scheduled departure. It was as absurd an over-correction for his earlier brush with tardiness as Squall had ever seen, if such was indeed the rationale behind his reckless thrill-seeking.

 _Remind me to never let him behind the wheel of anything ever again,_ he thought as Zell parked the car in the lot adjacent to the station, killing the ignition and popping the locks on the doors.

Squall gathered his effects and stepped out onto the cobbled stone ground, his head still spinning from the rapid velocity he had endured. Selphie and Zell followed his lead, the latter raising the convertible's windows and cover before he stepped out of the driver's seat. He triggered the locks with the clicker attached to the keys, and stowed them in the pocket of his jean-shorts.

"We're _so_ early!" Selphie remarked. "Wanna grab a bite around here before the train leaves?"

"I'm sure they'll have a dining car on board," Squall bluntly responded, opening up the headmaster's envelope and retrieving their ticket stubs and ID cards from within. "I'd rather we just hurry and get on. I don't want to risk any hold-ups."

"I guess," Selphie pouted as he handed the respective documentation to her. "It's just… I'm still new to these parts, and haven't really gotten a whole lot of time to check things out around here. It's so different from Trabia, where we pretty much get snow all year round, and it all looks so pretty..."

"Hey, don't worry!" Zell reassured her as he snatched his own ID and stub from Squall's grasp. "Once we get back, I'll show you all around! It's my hometown, after all."

"Really!? I'd love that!"

"Let's just move out," Squall steered the conversation back on track, striding forward onto the street and turning to face the turnstiled entryway before them.

'Balamb Station' had been painstakingly painted in ornate lettering upon the top of the gate, the town crest of a single burning flame etched behind it. From its mouth traipsed roughly two dozen passengers fresh off the newly arrived train, while perhaps half that number proceeded up the steps and into the terminal from the street. The intercontinental railroad connecting Balamb to Timber ran twice a day, utilizing two alternating trains which traveled back and forth across the divide in tandem. The trip was said to be roughly eleven hours in each direction, which when accounting for the hour time-zone differential made for a convenient routine trade-off between arrival and departure each day. The high-speed locomotive's peak velocity ultimately could not compete with that of SeeD's assault boats, which would undeniably have gotten them to their destination at least a few hours quicker. Even so, the amenities they would be provided on board certainly made it the preferable option in their current state of affairs.

Squall climbed the steps leading up to the turnstiles with his party in tow, slipping his ticket into the nearest one. The small slip of paper passed through the machine as he stepped through, and retrieved it from the other side with a newfound puncture through its tail-end. Zell and Selphie followed shortly after, the three making their way along the lengthy platform to their designated car, the second-to-last from the rear. They navigated the small crowds that had gathered in their midst, many among them lined up to utilize the nearby phone kiosks situated off to the side. Prior to the worldwide radio blackout, cellular phone technology had advanced to extraordinary new standards, all but rendering the conventional pay-phone model obsolete. With every wireless network across the globe instantly rendered virtually unusable however, the world of communications technology had at once been turned back at least thirty years overnight. It had been a particularly nightmarish scenario for the public institutions that had already gutted the previously outdated technology, suddenly faced with the challenge of re-installation and re-connection of the severed land-lines.

The trio reached their car and stepped aboard, Squall inserting his ticket into the interior door's automated scanning system. After several seconds and as many mechanical beeps, the red light situated to the side turned green as the scanner ejected the slip and the door opened before them. A long, narrow hallway stretched on to the opposite end of the car, the train's windows to one side, eight metallic cabin doors to the other.

"Which one are we?" Zell asked him.

"Cabin 7D," Squall answered, reading the print upon his stub. "Looks like it's that one."

He gestured to the second closest door to their position, the numbered indication plated upon its metallic surface. Zell strode over and inserted his own ticket into the adjoining scanner, the door automatically parting as it successfully authenticated the slip.

"Holy crap!" he shouted as his eyes widened, and rushed inside before the door swooshed shut behind him.

"Sounds promising," Selphie smirked as she followed him in, Squall bringing up the rear.

As he entered, his eyes taking in the private suite the headmaster and administration had allotted them, he was indeed pleasantly surprised by the state of their accommodations. The cabin was roomy and spacious, even for the three of them combined, owing to the narrow hallway outside. The walls were decorated with dark mahogany wood paneling, flourished by gold metallic support structuring running across the upper border. The delicate fluorescent lighting from above provided the room with a subdued, homey ambiance, akin to a regal hunting lounge complete with a pair of bunk-beds to the right side, almost appearing to be carved from the very wood itself. A large purple sofa took up much of the center, with two sizable curtained windows to its rear. A small minibar adorned the left-hand wall, replete with numerous drink glasses and a mini-fridge set upon its surface. For a mission which was supposedly being conducted for such a small amount of money, it seemed little expense had been spared for their lodging.

"This is so sick!" Zell exclaimed as he fetched a bottle of soda from the fridge and strode over to the couch, plopping himself down in contentment.

"Talk about swanky!" Selphie agreed. "But only two beds? Looks like someone's gonna be sleeping on the couch. And I'll tell you right now, it's _not_ gonna be me!"

"I think our _leader_ should be the one to bite the bullet there," Zell smirked, meeting Squall's gaze.

 _Whatever, makes no difference to me._

"I'll let you guys work it out, then," Selphie chimed as she dropped her duffel-bag at the base of the bunk-beds and turned back to the door. "I'm gonna check out the rest of the train. If this is what the cabins are like, I just _gotta_ see that dining car! Later!"

She trotted out the door excitedly, her bright yellow outfit disappearing down the hall quickly as it hissed shut once more. Squall turned back to the sofa, set his own bag down by its side and sat, reclining back upon it in exasperation. It was going to be a long trip, with or without his current companions.

"So," Zell started, a strange hint of curtness present in his tone. "How's it feel to be the big man, now? You get what you've always wanted?"

"You really don't want to get me started on that," Squall rebutted. "And I really don't want to talk about it."

"Man, even as a SeeD, you're still the same. Just letting you know, it pays for a leader to show respect to his comrades, especially if you want them to have any respect for you in return."

" _Excuse_ me?" Squall raised his head in irritation and confusion at the remark.

The attitude Zell had suddenly taken on was far from the carefree, happy-go-lucky demeanor he had come to expect from him, nor was it the exaggerated, easily outraged side of his personality. This was different, a serious and sharp-tongued side to him that Squall had yet to see, and he could not understand the reason behind its emergence.

"Are you trying to start something with me?" he countered. "When have I disrespected you?"

"Maybe not me," Zell muttered lowly. "But I think Instructor… sorry, _former_ Instructor Trepe deserves much better from you."

 _So that's what this is about._

"She told you?"

"Who else do you think she had to come to, after you left her out on the balcony like that?" he growled, his eyes ablaze as he stared daggers through Squall's very body. "I don't know who you think you are, but what you said to her doesn't impress me much."

"I'm not her personal walking diary!" Squall snapped as he rose to his feet, his head beginning to pound in the heat of the argument. "How is it fair for her to dump all her personal problems on me? I don't need this right now, so just drop it. It doesn't concern you."

"The hell it doesn't!" Zell stood up himself. "It's all on you and Seifer that she lost her license! And _still_ , she was willing to put her neck out there, and helped convince the administration to give us both a pass! The least you could do is show some gratitude, and not act like a selfish prick for once in your life!"

"Will you just _shut up!_ " Squall roared, bringing his hand to his forehead as the intensity of the pounding continued. "You're actually giving me a migraine!"

"Oh yeah, _real_ professional leadership on display right here," Zell scoffed.

Squall opened his mouth to fire back, when a piercing pain shot through his very mind at once, eliciting an agonized grunt as he grit his teeth and fell to his knees.

"Oh, come on, stop being such a drama queen!"

 _What the hell's going on!?_

Squall's vision began to blur as his muscles lost all autonomy of their own, and slumped to the floor face-first without any way to stop himself.

"Squall?" he could just barely make out Zell's voice above the distinct ringing that began to envelop his auditory senses. "Squall, stop screwing around!"

 _What's happening to…_

* * *

All was silent. All was darkness.

And then, a light…


	9. Chapter 7 - The Man With the Machine Gun

7

 **CHAPTER 7 – THE MAN WITH THE MACHINE GUN**

"I'm _telling_ you," Laguna grunted, forcing his caught knee through the thick foliage. "We are _not_ lost! The city's just up ahead!"

"That's what you said days ago!" Kiros shouted back as he rapidly sliced his way through the forested obstruction ahead of them.

He bore a razor-sharp katal blade in each hand, a class of weapon akin to a dagger, but wielded by a handle-like grip as opposed to a traditional hilt model. A veritable whirlwind of leaves kicked up as he fiercely mowed a path for the three through the omnipresent vegetation, his three beaded dreadlocks whipping every which way as he deftly maneuvered.

"I meant it then, and I mean it now! My sense of direction's never failed me!"

"Sounds like your memory sure has," Ward snorted, bringing up the rear of the squad.

Each footstep he took brought with it a massive thud upon the ground, the weight of his already gargantuan physique amplified by the mighty harpoon he hefted over his shoulder. The sheer stamina the man possessed to keep up with their consistent pace while lugging such a heavy load was truly inspiring, to speak nothing of his proven ability to make such effective utilization of it in combat. At his near giant-sized proportions, the lower-most branches of the surrounding trees proved a very real threat to his elevated stature. He casually swatted the wooded limbs away with his free arm as though they were mere twigs, not slowing in his march for even a moment.

The three had been dispatched to the Timber region a week earlier as part of the reinforcement battalions charged with quelling the ongoing resistance uprising. Upon arrival, they had been at once assigned with reconnaissance of the surrounding forests, to which the first wave of infantry forces had largely driven the enemy insurgents from the town. Within hours of having set out from their established base camp, they had inadvertently stumbled into an ambush from the guerrillas in the woods near Obel Lake, and had just barely managed to escape with their lives. The narrow getaway had sent them scrambling, throwing them off course and displacing them from their platoon. They had trekked for days on end in the hope they would eventually run across civilization once more, having long since abandoned their helmets along the way for the sake of increased visibility, and to better stave off the onset of heat stroke. They had made camp night after night within the deep forest, each of the three taking turns keeping lookout for wildlife and enemy troops alike. It had been an exhausting ordeal, an inordinate amount of miles no doubt covered across regions unknown, and with no end yet in sight as the sun once again climbed high toward its midday peak.

"We must be going the wrong way," Kiros suggested, coming to an abrupt halt. "It's been too long since we've run into any tangos. It's just way too quiet for a war zone."

"I dunno," Laguna mused, lowering his machine gun as he swiveled his gaze around at the thick mass of greenery to every side. "Somehow… I'm all of a sudden gettin' the feeling we're being watched."

 _[… this again?]_

"Huh?" he quickly shifted his eyes in each direction, raising his assault rifle back up as a strange sensation washed over his mind at that moment. "Did you guys hear something?"

"Something like what?" Kiros questioned with a disconcerted expression.

"Well, maybe not hear, but… more like _feel_ , I guess. Like there's some kinda presence around."

"The lack of sleep must be getting to you," Ward reassured him. "There's no one around for miles. If there were, they would have attacked us by-"

His consolation was cut short by an audible rustling in the nearby underbrush. Laguna frantically spun to face the source of the stirring, immediately training his rifle to the adjacent bushes and unloading a volley of rounds into the thick conglomerate of leaves. The percussive pounding of gunfire shattered the stark silence of the forest, sending a flock of perched birds upon the treetops high above skyward as they cawed in alarm. The bullets tore through the shrubbery with ease, a sickening inhuman squeal erupting from its confines. Laguna remained fixed to the spot, his aim unflinching from the spot of its origin as Kiros and Ward looked on in bewilderment. Moments passed in anticipation, before the rustling picked up once again, and forward slithered a dying grey-scaled lizard creature with gnarled teeth and pincer-like claws.

"Just a geezard?" Laguna moaned as the life faded from the monster's slitted eyes and it slumped over.

"I told you, you're getting way too jumpy," Ward insisted. "There's nothing around here but a few monsters. Who knows how far away from the city we've drifted at this rate."

"And I'm tellin' _you_ , it's under control!" Laguna declared.

 _[Who's this idiot trying to convince?]_

"Let's just keep moving. This place is giving me the willies, all of a sudden."

The three continued onward through the seemingly never-ending stretch of verdure, the pit in Laguna's stomach beginning to deepen the further they progressed. Despite his bluster, he was every bit as aware as his comrades that they were well and truly lost. The lush woodlands of the region were legendary for their abundant natural resources, stretching for mile after mile in virtually every direction from the fittingly named city of Timber. They could have potentially been just about anywhere on the southeastern portion of the continent at that very moment, and he could only have hope that they would soon enough come across a fellow infantry squadron to extract them. They were running short on rations, and he short on ammunition and sanity alike, if the subtle yet undeniably present buzzing sensation that had suddenly come over his mind was any indication.

For at least half-an-hour more they slogged on, Laguna feeling his usual optimism return little by little as the forest gradually began to thin ahead of them. Kiros appeared to share his renewed vigor, slicing down the last remnants of the thicket with exhilaration as the sight of open plains and a winding dirt road appeared before them. They cleared the treeline at long last, stumbling out of the forest and coming to a rest at the side of the road, Laguna panting in exhaustion.

"Told you we'd… make it out..." he gasped, completely out of breath.

"That's only the first step," Kiros solemnly reminded him. "We still don't have any clue where we are."

"I'd say about a hundred-and-ten miles northwest of Timber," Ward stated bluntly.

"And where are you getting that number from?"

Ward shifted his piercing deep blue eyes over Laguna's head and simply pointed with his index finger further down the road. He turned his head back to follow his indicated line of vision, only then noticing a carved placard reading 'Timber – 110 miles SE' planted in the gravely terrain by the upcoming bend along the route.

"You gotta be shittin' me!" Laguna lamented, returning the assault rifle to the sling upon his back.

"Well," Kiros sighed in equal parts irritation and disbelief, sheathing his katals on his thighs as he did so. "Looks like we sure made good time, at least. Are we really heading back?"

"Absolutely not. We're staying right here and hitching a ride back to the capital with the next transport that passes."

"You're actually thinking of going AWOL?" Ward asked him incredulously.

"Who said anything about AWOL?" he smirked. "I'm goin' home with a purple heart. Ah, my leg!"

Laguna at once keeled over in mock pain, clutching at his knee as he feigned a limp for his comrades. He raised his gaze to Kiros, who simply turned his head in shame, not even daring to meet his friend's eyes.

"What, too hammy?"

"And what are you going to say when they x-ray you and find nothing's wrong?" he asked half rhetorically.

"I'm a really fast healer? C'mon, it'll all work out, trust me."

No sooner had he uttered his clearly failing attempt at persuasion as the whipping of helicopter rotors met his ears. He turned his vision to the skies to see the outline of a chopper approaching from the south against the glare of the midday sun. As he shielded his eyes from the bright obfuscation, he could just barely discern the make of the transport to be military-issue, the vaguely gear-shaped crest of Galbadia adorned on its side door as it began to pivot away to the west.

"Damn!" Laguna swore. "There goes our ticket outta here! Hey!"

He bolted across the road, arms flailing frantically for the pilot to by some miracle glance down and see him. Upon clearing the width of the gravely thoroughfare to the other side, he suddenly heard a miniature detonation erupt from behind. He spun around abruptly to see a trail of fresh red smoke billowing high into the heavens, following the trajectory of a guiding light that soared ever higher. At its base stood Kiros, arm held upright with a flare gun within his grasp.

"So much for double checking your equipment!" he called to the stunned Laguna from across the divide. "You're welcome!"

" _How_ long have you been holding onto that!?" he spluttered in disbelief as he rushed back to his comrades' side. From behind, he could distinctly hear the propellers begin to draw closer, as it veered off its course to investigate the source of the signal flare. "And why didn't you use it days ago!?"

"Shoot off a flammable projectile in the middle of a dense forest," Ward dryly commented, arms crossed in derision. "Because _that_ wouldn't have ended horribly at all."

Silently acknowledging his squadmate's entirely reasonable point, Laguna raced back over to his side without comment. The three retreated further to the forest's edge as the helicopter made its approach, the thick foliage to their rear beginning to whip wildly as the propellers kicked up a gust of wind. Slowly and steadily the transport touched down upon the roadway, Laguna plugging his ears with his gloved fingers as he sprinted forward to the opening side door. He noted several similarly outfitted infantrymen seated within the fuselage as he and his companions drew near, practically leaping aboard without even bothering to take the outstretched hand offered to him. He landed on the metal flooring, channeling his exhaustion to its fullest to further add credence to his performance.

"Ah, dammit!" he feigned anguish. "My leg!"

"Are you okay soldier!?" one of the officers knelt to his side in concern as Kiros and Ward stepped on, the latter taking great pains to maneuver his harpoon through before sliding the door shut behind him.

"It's been hell out there!" Laguna raged, taking time to pepper a series of agonized breaths between every few words. "We've been stranded… for days… and I think I've… got a torn meniscus!"

"We were ambushed and separated from our platoon," Kiros clarified, playing along. "He's in no condition to fight. We need to get him medical care right away."

"We're en route to Deling City right now," another soldier assured him as the chopper began to lift off. "The battle's more or less been over for two days now."

"Say what!?" Laguna reeled, momentarily forgetting his schtick as he lifted his upper body from the metal surface without fuss. He quickly tacked on a wince of pain at the last moment, noting a distinct eye-roll from Ward as he did so.

"The city has been secured and most of the remaining enemy forces have been driven out. The order's been given to start pulling out the reinforcement battalions, while the heavy artillery performs a clean sweep of the woodlands to wipe out the stragglers."

"And by 'clean sweep'," Kiros interjected, his eyes affixed to the side window. "You mean torching everything indiscriminately?"

Laguna mock limped to his feet to join his comrade, irritated beyond words that he would be forced to keep his act up to remain consistent. He inched over to Kiros' side and gazed ahead out of the glass partition on toward the rapidly shrinking horizon. Far off in the distance, in the midst of acre upon acre of thick forest puffed a massive cloud of billowing black smoke, obstructing any visual of the city itself. It was an astonishing sight, appearing akin to a fresh volcanic eruption, and one that left Laguna with a distinct feeling of revulsion at his involvement with the culpable party. He had come to accept that his position in the Galbadian army would lead him to carry out orders he found distasteful or morally ambiguous, but to be associated with wanton destruction of such magnitude was truly beyond the pale.

"Deling wants to make an impression," another soldier grunted.

"Looks like we might as well have used that flare in the forest after all," Ward joked with a grim tone.

 _My days in this army are numbered, one way or another…_

* * *

"One Trabia red," Laguna requested of the bartender. "One Balamb whiskey, and a… virgin pineapple daiquiri."

 _[Stuck in a moron for hours on end, and I don't even get real booze? Is this what hell is?]_

"Coming right up," he replied as he turned to pore over the shelves of alcohol for the proper bottles. "You with those two, again? Take a seat, I'll have Diane bring them right over."

Laguna remained fixed in place, his attention whisked away once more by the strange buzzing in his mind that had continued to persist since shortly before their extraction. He had allowed the medical staff at the compound to conduct a brief examination of him upon their return several hours later, thankful to a certain extent that he had developed an issue with some legitimacy to help deflect from his knee's quick recovery. They had promptly performed an MRI scan on him, and having claimed to have observed no physical abnormalities, suggested it to be a symptom of general anxiety. It was indeed the most logical explanation, given the long string of restless days he and his squad had spent wandering the wilderness aimlessly. So long as he had assurance that it was not the onset of PTSD, he could cope with the mild discomfort.

Following his examination and their post-mission debriefing, he and his comrades had taken to the streets for a well-deserved night on the town in Deling City. Even now, it still took a great deal of effort for Laguna to refer to his home by that name; for as long as he could remember, it had been but the eponymous capital city of Galbadia. So it had been for decades, if not centuries before Esthar's bid for world domination had come underway. With war an impending inevitability, and the people in dire need of a stable and strong figurehead to lead them, the senate had voted to extend sitting president Vinzer Deling's term indefinitely. With his newfound power, he had decreed the capital city's name be re-branded with his own, and commanded that the splintered and disaffected western territories be ushered together once again under Galbadia's rule. Despite his enlistment in the army, Laguna had never been the sort to take a vested interest in politics. He was a man content to leave such matters to those who knew far more about upholding a nation than he ever could. Even so, as the sight of the burning woodlands flashed before his eyes once more, he could not help but acknowledge that a line had been crossed somewhere along the way.

He finally turned his back to the bar, and crossed the crimson carpeted floor to his squadmates, both seated at one of the many small circular tables dotting the ornate basement lounge of the Galbadian Hotel. Each bore a single lit candle placed in the center, which excluding a number of mounted sconces situated along the gold embroidered walls provided the vast chamber's only illumination. It positively swathed the hall in a subdued and romantic ambiance, which several seated couples had already begun putting to use before the show's start. Amid them all, Laguna's two partners, towering as they were and still outfitted in their blue and silver plated armor, stuck out cartoonishly.

"The drinks'll be right over," he informed the two as he took his seat to Kiros' right.

"Yours should be easy enough to pick out," Ward teased him.

"Hey, that was a rough time we had out there! Maybe I'm in the mood to drink for once."

"In that case," Kiros smirked sarcastically. "Why don't we head down the street to the Tipsy Mog instead?"

"You crazy!?" Laguna defended himself. "I'm tryin' to keep _away_ from all the army watering holes. You remember what happened last time?"

"I'm sure the major is over that," Kiros reassured him. "It was only on his boots, after all."

"You're forgetting the part after where I got those boots right up my ass!"

" _I'm_ not," Ward faintly smiled.

"Um, sirs?"

Their reminiscing was interrupted by an outfitted young woman with short cropped hair standing before them, balancing three drinks upon the tray she held in her right hand. Slightly embarrassed by his crassness, Laguna simply nodded his head with an anxious smile as she set the glasses down on the table and made her way back to the bar. True to Ward's joking comment, his own daiquiri was the clear odd one out.

"If that's got alcohol in it, then I'm having sparkling water," the man snorted as he reached out and grabbed the whiskey.

"Is it really _that_ obvious?"

"Painfully," Kiros chuckled as he took his first sip of the red wine. "We know what you really come here for, and it's sure not the drinks. Just be honest about it."

"Yeah, maybe not but… you know, it's just really nice to kick back with some live music for a change."

"Closer, but that's still not it."

"Well," Ward spoke up, motioning forward. "Let's see what's behind curtain number one."

Laguna turned to face the stage at the fore of the lounge, to see the spotlights had at last been switched on. The highlighted red curtains slowly began to part to either side, prompting a mild round of applause to arise from the audience. The drapery gave way to a stunning grand piano, and moments later, an even more stunning young beauty. She stepped into the lights from the right side of the stage, dressed in elegant red satin and black heels, the same color as her dark shoulder-length hair. She bowed gracefully before the patrons and strode to the piano, seating her petite frame upon the bench and adjusting the sheet music placed before her.

Her name was Julia, and as much as he detested the chiding his team had given him, she was for a fact Laguna's sole reason for routinely frequenting the hotel lounge in his off-time. She was strikingly pretty, and every bit as talented with her instrument of choice. She had begun to make something of a name for herself as a regular performer at the hotel, playing primarily piano arrangements of popular music with the occasional original, and all of which Laguna had found absolutely wonderful. Her music in its proper running order, she stretched her dainty fingers one final time, lowered them to the keys and began. The song was one Laguna recognized from his previous visits, an instrumental cover of a popular contemporary ballad entitled 'Ami'. It was a very soothing and romantic piece, its slow melody wavering between melancholy and joy in equal measures, and warmed his heart as he began to sip from his drink in silence.

"I have to admit," Kiros murmured as he took another swig of wine. "I do appreciate the ambiance."

"Yeah," Laguna sighed. "She's really somethin', huh?"

"What do you hope to accomplish here?" Ward bluntly asked as he set his whiskey down. "You come in, you get a drink, you sit down and watch from the shadows, and leave. Every single time."

"What do you want from me?" he shot back in a hushed tone as Julia proceeded to wrap up the current piece. "What am I _supposed_ to do?"

"I'm saying if you're really so interested, show it. Give her a little wave, why don't you?"

"Can't you see she's working right now?!" Laguna hissed as a mild applause kicked up and Julia quickly scanned over the approving audience.

As she moved her arms from the ivory keys to flip to the next page of her score, she met his gaze briefly from across the divide, and maintained the eye-contact for several moments. Her deep brown eyes stared right into his, seeming to peer straight through his facade and expose him for the hopeless romantic he was. A fleeting smile reached the corners of her lips, bringing with it a feeling of elation that ran through Laguna's body like electricity. She turned back to her sheet music, pulling a pair of pages from the rear of the pile and placing them front and center. Whatever piece she was about to play, it had surely not been the next in her original running order.

"If that isn't clear as day," Kiros elbowed him.

Julia started up again, the new piece being one Laguna did not recognize. It did not seem to be a cover of any song he was familiar with, nor had he heard it performed at any of her previous shows he had attended. By comparison to 'Ami', it was significantly cheerier and slightly more upbeat, though still definitively a piano ballad. It had a very nice melody to it, permeated by a hopeful and almost vocal quality.

"What are you waiting for?" Ward whispered. "That was a _really_ good sign."

"You want me to just walk up to her while she's playing?" he asked with disbelief. "I'm trying _not_ to look like a creep."

"And sitting silently in the audience, staring her down night after night _isn't_ creepy?"

Laguna had no counter for his comrade's assertion. Whether he had intended it or not, he understood such a visual could easily be misconstrued to paint him in an unfavorable light, but simply strolling up to the stage out of the blue seemed unthinkable, and could just as easily be interpreted as disregard for personal boundaries. A single fleeting smile was all that he had to go off of, which for all he knew could have been directed at another attendant seated at a table behind him. He quickly turned to glance, taking notice of no other occupied table in the immediate vicinity. All of the pieces seemed to add up perfectly, and yet still he could not bring himself to break free from the paralysis that had seized hold of him.

"Honestly… I think my leg's acting up again."

"Tell you what," Kiros started, placing his wine glass back on the table. "For every song she finishes before you go up and give her a little wave, I'm going to get us put on traffic duty for one hour."

" _What_!?" he reeled. "That's just cruel! Don't you remember that pile-up that happened last time?"

"Because _someone_ parked our transport in the middle of the street," Ward growled.

"Better get moving then," Kiros threatened.

Laguna abruptly rose to his feet; the chewing out he had received from his commanding officer for the previous incident still haunted him, and he understood being forced to repeat that scenario again would be a fate far worse than any potential rejection. He slowly stumbled around the adjoining tables as if to work his way to the bar, bypassing a waitress on his way and eventually meeting the right-hand wall. He began to inch his way forward, drawing ever closer to the stage from the side, and gradually stepped into Julia's line of sight.

 _[Is this guy serious?]_

Laguna lingered in place for a number of moments, internally brushing off the strange mental dissonance, until Julia slowly turned her gaze to meet his without interrupting her piece. She looked him over for a number of moments in surprise, clearly not having expected him to come up. He met her eyes, raised his hand somewhat pitifully, and waved to her with an embarrassed grin. Her own expression was one Laguna could not easily read at first glance; perhaps intrigue, but just as likely confusion. Had he indeed crossed a boundary here? He swiftly turned back around and hurried to his table, reclaiming his seat by Kiros as Julia finished the piece.

"There, happy?"

"Are _you_?" the slender man asked him slyly, as the audience applauded again.

"Credit where it's due," Ward grunted. "You had the balls."

"Didn't cut a very manly figure up there, though."

"Whatever," Laguna snorted, taking a swig of his daiquiri as Julia started up the next piece.

She continued on with her performance for roughly twenty minutes more, the trio taking the opportunity to order another round of drinks in the intervening time. For his second, Laguna had opted for the alcoholic variant, figuring that a different manner of buzz would do well to help alleviate the nerve-wracking anxiety which still gripped his mind. The last thing he had wanted was to have made the woman he admired feel uncomfortable in his presence. No matter how many times the scenario replayed in his mind however, he could not bring himself to rationalize it in a favorable light. The same could have been said for his continued attendance night after night, which had clearly not gone unnoticed. It seemed a hopeless endeavor, every manner in which he had tried to approach it only making things worse, and leaving him to pine incessantly over an infatuation he knew deep down could never amount to anything more. As she finished her final number of the night and proceeded to take her bow before the applauding patrons, he wondered if this indeed ought to be his last visit to the Galbadia Hotel lounge.

"I can see her going places," Kiros muttered as the clapping died down and she exited the stage to the side.

"Yeah," Laguna agreed. "She's got talent, looks, personality… the whole package."

"Don't sound so down," Ward started with an uncharacteristically sympathetic tone. "You've got confidence to spare in the field. Just have a little more with this stuff."

"Easier said than done."

Ward sighed in exasperation, as Laguna continued to mire in his thoughts. He was not brave, merely a free spirit who dreamed of much more than the mundane reality he lived day to day. If he seemed confident in his composure, it was only because he knew he longed for bigger and better things ahead.

"Laguna," Ward addressed him as he gulped down the last of his whiskey and raised his massive figure from the table. "We're gonna take off."

"Huh!? What gives!?"

"Just stay a while and relax," Kiros advised him as he also rose to his feet. "The drinks are on us this time."

"Uh… thanks, I guess, but… why the hurry?"

By the time the words had escaped his lips, the two had already started on their way to the bar to pay the check. They moved swiftly, seemingly with the purpose of distancing themselves from Laguna as quickly as possible. He could not understand why. Had he somehow offended them? Had his persistent negativity finally gotten under their skin?

"Excuse me?" a kind voice spoke from before the table. Laguna turned his head back and nearly doubled over in shock.

"May I?" Julia asked, gesturing with her open palm to the newly vacant seats beside him.

"Uh… yes, of course!" he stammered, attempting to maintain his composure.

 _Those sneaky bastards._

"Sorry," she apologized as she took the spot Kiros had just been sitting in. "Did I interrupt anything?"

"No, no, absolutely not. Please."

 _Oh man, oh man, it's really her! What do I do!? What do I say!? But man, she really is pretty..._

 _[What is this guy thinking?]_

"Are you okay?" she asked with a concerned look.

"Yeah, I'm cool," he feigned. "Just a little out of it. Me and my squad just got back from Timber this afternoon."

"Oh, my," she responded in awe. "I've heard it's been terrible out there. Were you wounded?"

"Nah, nothing serious. It was pretty tiring though, so… I figured we'd, y'know, come here to take a load off and relax a bit."

"I see," she muttered, pausing for a moment. "But… from what I can tell, you don't seem very relaxed."

"Well," Laguna stuttered, "yeah, I just… well, you see-"

"Are you nervous?" she smiled softly. "Don't be. In fact, I've been meaning to talk to you."

"To _me_!?" he gasped, his eyes widening.

 _This cannot be real…_

"Yes," Julia sweetly chuckled, swiping an unused napkin from the table-side. She quickly pulled a pen from her dress pocket, clicked it and began to scribble upon the white cloth surface. "But it's a little crowded here, and I'd rather we talk somewhere a bit more private."

She finished writing and slipped the pen back into her dress, simultaneously sliding the napkin across the table and around the rings of condensation left over from Ward and Kiros' drinks.

"If you're interested, I'll be waiting for you."

She gave him a playful smile, and delicately rose from her seat. Laguna watched as she made her way up the ascending staircase to the hotel lobby on the main floor, her long flowing satin dress brushing along the steps as she climbed in her heels. He lowered his gaze to the napkin, to see a brief message written with elegant cursive penmanship upon the fabric: _Room 712_

Laguna sat in silence for what felt like hours, his eyes unmoving from the piece of cloth he bore in front of him. There was simply no way it could exist in reality, no chance that he was reading the text inscribed on it correctly. His alcohol tolerance may have been on the lower end of the spectrum, but he knew one drink could not possibly have brought him to such a disconnect with reality. It had to have been the anxiety getting to him, which had resultantly caused him to hallucinate the entire exchange. And yet, he could so vividly feel the napkin through his gloved hands, still smell the fresh perfume left lingering in the space beside him. Fantastical as it may have seemed, their meeting had been no illusion. Julia had invited him to her room.

Quickly bolting to his feet, he shoved the napkin into his pocket and started for the upper levels, practically skipping up the flight of stairs on his way. He passed through the regal front lobby and boarded the elevator, pressing the button for the seventh floor. As the doors slid shut and the lift began to rise, a frantic excitement began to gather in his mind and stomach alike. The anticipation and insinuation of what awaited him in Room 712 was simply too much to bear.

 _Am I really going to… !?_

 _[Am_ I _really going to… !?]_

The doors opened at last, and he raced down the hall, coming to an abrupt stop at the correctly labeled room. His heart caught in his throat, and he breathed deeply to calm himself, raising his fist to the door to knock. He hesitated, unsure if he were of the proper state of mind to not risk embarrassing himself.

"Play it cool," he mumbled to himself. "Just be confident, like Ward said."

He finally gathered the necessary courage and rapped the door twice with his knuckles.

"Coming!" came the reply. Moments later the door knob turned, opening to reveal Julia still outfitted in her red dress. He must not have been sitting for as long as he had thought.

"I'm glad you came," she smiled, propping the door ajar and gesturing for him to enter. "Please come in."

"N-not at all," he uttered as he stepped through, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "Thank you for, uh, inviting me."

The room featured a single queen-sized bed with a pink duvet, two lamps situated upon small dressers to either side. On the opposite wall rested a desk with a single chair, upon which sat page after page of sheet music seemingly strewn about without consideration. To the rear stood a small table and two chairs, a bottle of red wine with a pair of glasses sitting atop, and a large curtained bay-window overlooking much of the city skyline. The downtown expanse stretching out from the hotel was lit up by all manner of neon illumination, leading onward to the grand golden Iguion Gate standing at the center of the city. A relic from the reign of the Holy Dollet Empire, towering at easily one-hundred feet, and decorated by all manner of painstakingly crafted sculptures and gargoyles centuries old, it remained Deling City's most famous tourist landmark by a sizable margin.

"Please," Julia motioned as she closed the door behind him. "Have a seat. Would you like some wine?"

"I'm… not really a heavy drinker," Laguna confessed as he took one of the chairs by the window. "But I guess I can make an exception for tonight."

"I'm not trying to get you drunk," she giggled, moving over to take the opposite seat. "Just a little bit to take the edge off. You seem nervous."

"Well, I uh," he fumbled as he poured himself half a glass. "It's just… I'm a pretty big fan of yours."

"So that's why you always come to hear me play, is it?"

"Y-you noticed?" he stammered, nearly spilling the bottle altogether as he lowered it back to the table's surface.

"Of course," Julia beamed as she took the bottle and began to pour herself a fair amount. "You always have a sweet smile on your face whenever I see you in the audience. You have very beautiful eyes, you know... though I think they look a little scared right now."

Laguna turned away in shame, feeling his face becoming beet red as she continued to giggle.

"Don't worry," she reassured him, setting the bottle down. "I'm not gonna pluck 'em and eat 'em! I just wanted to talk, gazing into those eyes."

"Talk about what?" he nervously asked, taking a heavy swig of the wine to offset his restless state of mind.

"About you. What you do, what you like, the sky's the limit. Like, how long have you been in the army?"

"Uh, a little less than a year now," he told her, taking another swig on instinct. As it traveled down his throat, he could already tell his nerves were starting to calm. "I joined right before the war started up. I honestly wouldn't have if I'd known what was coming. Fighting on the battlefield isn't something you ever really get used to."

 _[I'll drink to that.]_

"I can imagine," Julia replied with a dour look. "You mentioned you just got back from Timber. That must have been rough."

"Yeah, I sometimes wonder if the world has gone crazy. This kind of stuff was not what I signed up for."

"Why did you join, then?" Julia questioned as she took a sip of her own glass.

"It's complicated," he started as he averted his eyes to the dazzling city lights beyond the windowpane. "When you boil it all down though… I guess, just because I was searching for something to give my life some purpose. Maybe it's kinda selfish, but... I just wanted to see all the world had to show me, travel to different places, try new things and make some good memories along the way."

"And have you?"

"Oh yeah," he turned back to her, taking another sip; he was finally beginning to relax in her presence. "There've been good times with the bad. If I hadn't joined, I wouldn't have met my two best pals. They might be royal pains sometimes, but they've always got my back. Without them, I don't know where I'd be now."

"That's great!" she smiled, her face positively lighting up. "And I don't think that's selfish at all. You should absolutely do what makes you happy."

"Yeah," he sighed, turning his gaze to the drink clasped within his fingers. "But like I said, it ain't all sunshine. And after this last week, I know my future's not with the army for much longer. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Anything you want," she assured him with an enraptured stare.

"Well," Laguna took another glug, standing up and using the table's edge to steady himself. "I wanna be a journalist! Y'know, write about all the places I've been to, the things I've seen, share all that stuff with everyone! It's my dream!"

"A travel journalist?" Julia hummed pensively. "Wow... that would be a great way to follow your dreams."

"Yeah, it'd be great!" Laguna slurred as he sat back down, the alcohol clearly starting to affect him. "But, I'm talkin' way too much. What about you? What's your dream for the future?"

 _[Why do I feel like I'm being mocked?]_

" _My_ dream?" she repeated, seemingly hesitant as she glanced down. "Well… I really want to sing. Not just play the piano, but sing, too. With my own original songs."

"Oh really? I'd _love_ to hear that!"

"But, I just don't know," she sighed. "I'm not very good at writing lyrics. I've tried, and the inspiration is just never there. But now..."

She paused, raising her eyes once more to him, a distinct tinge of hope and longing present in her gaze.

"Thanks to you, I think I can come up with something."

"Thanks… to me?" Laguna replied, shocked beyond belief.

"Yes," Julia blushed. "Did you like that second song I played tonight? I wrote it for you. I want to give it lyrics one day, and I think I know where to start now. Everything you've just told me… about your dreams, your fears, about the good times and the bad… and the support you've shown me every night I've seen you… your smile, your face, your eyes… I think I can make it work."

Laguna had no words, nor could he have possibly found the right ones to express his jumbled thoughts as he slumped forward, resting his arm upon the table to steady himself. Julia had truly thought so highly of his admiration of her that she had written a song for him? It would be too much for him to to take in while sober, much less with as much alcohol as he now had in his system.

"Wow… I must be dreamin'."

 _[This is too weird to be a dream.]_

"It's not a dream, is it?" Julia softly spoke, as Laguna felt her take his resting hand.

His vision remained trained upon the table, blurring as he slipped from consciousness. He had reached his limit.

"Oh, I see what you meant now," he faintly heard as all faded away. "I didn't know wine made you so sleepy… "

* * *

He slowly awoke upon a soft, plush surfacing, lying prostrate on his back as he groggily opened his eyes. His vision met darkness, prompting an agonized groan from his parched throat as he brought his hand up to his pounding forehead. Laguna was indeed a lightweight drinker who had foolishly tried taking in more than he could manage, and on an empty stomach no less. Now he was left to suffer the consequences of his brash decision making, continuing to moan as the room seemed to jerk subtly around him and a distinct rustling of machinery met his ears. He traced his pained forehead with his gloved fingers, feeling the tip of one coming to a halt as it dipped into what felt like a small divot on his face. His eyes at once shot fully open.

 _Is that… a scar?_

"Squall!" a voice broke the silence as the florescent lights above suddenly switched on.

He shouted in alarm as he rolled over to shield his eyes, and just as abruptly toppled off the violet sofa onto the carpeting below with a thud. The impact barely even registering in his state of confusion, he quickly raised his head to see Selphie sticking her figure out from the private cabin's bottom bunk-bed, her finger pressed to the light-switch by its side. She was outfitted in a set of baby-blue pajamas, her hair disheveled and unkempt.

"What the hell?" came a familiar voice from the top bunk. Zell's spiked hair-do raised itself from the bed, his tattooed face peering down to inspect the commotion which had rudely awakened him. "Oh, shit, you're up!"

"Are you okay!?" Selphie blurted as she leaped out of her bunk and rushed over to help him up. "When I came back last night, Zell told me you'd passed out! Are you feeling sick!?"

"I..." Squall groaned as he allowed her to assist him, only at that moment coming to the realization that he was finally back in control of his own bodily functions. "I'm alright, I think."

"What happened?" Zell called down. "I tried shaking you awake, but you wouldn't respond. We even got the train's medical staff to come in and look you over."

"We waited 'till we were well on our way, though," Selphie added. "If we did it too soon, they might've turned the train right around to get you back to the hospital in Balamb."

"Good thinking," he grunted, slowly sitting back down on the sofa. That his squadmates had remembered to hold the mission as their top priority was the best news he could have asked for. It provided him the faintest of hopes that perhaps the assignment he had been charged with leading would turn out fine in the end.

"We could still feel you had a pulse though, so that took some of the pressure off," Zell told him. "Look, if you're not feeling well, let us know, okay? That was _really_ scary. I legitimately thought I'd nagged you to death."

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," Squall firmly dismissed him. "It's probably just all the stress I've been under this last week. It's my problem, and I'll deal with it."

"If you say so," he spoke as he rolled back over into his bunk. "Just remember we're a team here. We need to make sure we're all at one-hundred percent for the mission."

"What he said!" Selphie quipped as she returned to her bunk, reorganized her sheets and flipped the light-switch off. "Good night, Squall. Or, 'good morning', I guess."

"Speaking of which," Squall muttered, bringing his wrist up and swiftly adjusting the brightness setting on his digital LED watch.

The display read _0_ _4_ _:57_ ; the train's departure the previous evening had been scheduled for 20:00, which he had fallen unconscious at least twenty minutes before. Taking into account that he had not yet adjusted his watch in accordance with the hour time-zone differential, he had effectively been asleep for more than nine hours straight. And yet despite such a long, uninterrupted slumber, he did not feel well-rested in the slightest, as though the full duration of his time spent in the body of Laguna had passed in reality.

He recalled his previous dream of having inhabited the body of the asinine Galbadian soldier, and the sheer vividness of the experience. Squall had merely written it off after the fact as his over-eager subconscious getting to him with regard to being sent off on the impending SeeD field exam. Perhaps having been saddled with the responsibility of leading a squadron on his first ever assignment had unnerved him on a similar level. It was the only explanation that made any sense whatsoever, and with a mere two hours before their arrival in Timber, now was the time to take advantage of what little genuine rest he could still salvage. He lay back upon the sofa and closed his eyes, his mind still spinning as the moving train carriage swayed ever so slightly in tandem.

 _What a nightmare…_


	10. Chapter 8 - Guardians of the Forest

8

 **CHAPTER 8 – GUARDIANS OF THE FOREST**

The chilly morning breeze swept down the cobbled road as the sun continued to climb in the east. The sudden gust mussed Squall's hair, prompting him to quickly zip up his leather jacket for further warmth. He sat upon a public bench by the base of a large carved stone staircase, the apex of which bore a sizable archway reading "Timber – Balamb Line". Before him stretched the bustling city streets, splitting off from the station square to the south and forming an intertwining network of twisting roadways and narrow alleys. The domiciles that lined either side of the in-progress morning commute were not constructed primarily of wood, contrary to the municipality's given name, but rather of stone of a faded green-colored variety. The architectural style appeared of a distinctly old-world fashion not dissimilar from Dollet's own, no doubt owing itself to the lingering residual influence of centuries gone by, from an era when the continent had been united under one flag. As he eyed a squad of outfitted Galbadian soldiers directing traffic further down the road, accompanied by many more guards patrolling the sidewalks, he was reminded that such an era had come again, albeit under far more dire circumstances.

The intercontinental express had pulled into the Timber terminal right on time at 0600, Squall barely having managed to get more than an hour's worth of rest. Upon the train's arrival, Zell and Selphie had informed the medical staff of his recovery, and after a brief follow-up examination to ensure he was indeed fully functioning, the trio had gathered their belongings and made their way out onto the platform. Their forged identification cards having been professionally assembled by the Garden administration, they had bypassed station security without incident and proceeded to their designated contact point in the adjoining square. The supplementary information included in the Headmaster's envelope had specified 0700 as the meeting time. It was now almost an hour past then, and still they had yet to be approached by their elusive resistance operative.

Selphie remained stationary in her yellow overall-dress by a nearby overlook, her arms slung over the railing in boredom as she gazed out over the railroad tracks running below. The morning express bound west had rumbled on through minutes earlier, emerging from the continental-line terminals situated further down the station's expanse. Zell ambled back over into the square proper from an adjacent vending machine, a canned drink in one hand as he re-propped his back up against the light post his duffel-bag still rested beside. The blonde-haired youth appeared to have let his heated exchange with Squall the previous evening fall by the wayside. Squall understood it doubtless continued to fester inside him even now, but that he would likely keep it to himself henceforth in light of his own sudden fainting episode.

 _Talk about a happy accident._

Growing increasingly restless as the minutes ticked by, he turned to his own duffel-bag placed upon the remaining length of the bench, and unzipped it to rummage through the contents. Twisting his arm through the mass of tightly packed clothes, he firmly grabbed hold of the sheathed gunblade within and withdrew it into his lap. The weapon's very touch and familiar weight was comforting to him in the moment, an unwavering source of predictability in the face of such uncertainty ahead. He pulled the weapon halfway from its holster, exposing the lion's-head design engraved upon the stainless steel. The emblem had been custom-made to his specifications after passing his weapons certification test, identical in design to the pendant he wore around his neck, and the ring upon his left hand. The raw strength and power of the beast, and the pride and unwavering determination it represented had been his ultimate ideal for as long as he could remember. As he clutched the hilt tightly and closed his eyes in contentment, he could almost hear a voice from a time long gone by call to him.

* * *

 _You need to be brave, to have a strong heart, like a lion. Promise me. If you can do that, you'll find her again…_

* * *

"Wow," a voice to his immediate left roused him from his trance. "The forests of Timber sure have changed."

Squall's eyes shot open as he turned to find a young man with a blue bandana atop his head had seemingly materialized from the ether beside him. He was outfitted in a white T-shirt topped by a tan vest and baggy green cargo pants, seeming perpetually slouched over with his arms tucked into his pockets.

"But the owls are still around," he replied bluntly, sheathing the gunblade.

"Welcome to Timber, sir!" the man lit up, extending his hand in greeting.

"You're late," Squall grumbled irritably, not making any effort to return the handshake. "The meeting time was supposed to be 0700."

"Ah," the youth sheepishly blushed as he retracted his outstretched limb, placing it back in his pocket. "Sorry, sir. I've never been good with military time."

"0700 is just seven-o'-clock. And stop calling me 'sir'."

"Uh, that's-"

"Hey!" Zell called as he and Selphie made their way across the square, their bags hoisted over their shoulders. "This the guy?"

"Yes, sir!" the young man addressed him, extending his hand once more. "My name is Watts, intel specialist. Pleasure to meet you, sir! And miss!"

The two shook hands, Selphie following suit right after. Squall knew not what to make of the strange young man, spastic, clunky and overly formal as he appeared to be. If his demeanor were any indication of the faction they had been assigned to assist, it did not bode well for the mission to come. His patience already having worn thin from the long wait, he returned the gunblade to his luggage and re-zipped the bag; there would surely be no open-carry law in effect in a city under occupation. Despite the unnerving feeling of vulnerability it presented him, it was crucial that they make every effort to avoid unwanted attention. Should the need arise to defend himself however, he still had his Guardian Force clipped to the right side of his belt.

"Let's get moving," he declared, rising to his feet.

"My thoughts exactly, sir!" Watts responded, motioning down the adjacent street due west. "It's going to be a bit of a hike, though. Follow me!"

As the overeager rebel marched on down the sidewalk ahead of them, Squall turned to his comrades and flashed them a quizzical look.

"Not the most punctual bunch, are they?" he muttered quietly.

"Ah, it was probably just an honest mistake!" Selphie winked. "Still happens to me around the Garden."

"At least you've got an excuse, being new."

"Oh, come on," Zell protested. "Don't you think you're being a bit too quick to judge? I kinda like the guy."

 _Of course you do._

The trio tailed Watts through the streets of Timber for the better part of an hour, weaving their way through the numerous passersby and avoiding guard patrols when possible. The traffic upon the cobbled roads gradually began to thin as time ticked on, the last trickling dregs of the citizenry making their way to their workplaces in short order. Squall took note of the various shops and establishments along the way, running the gamut from pubs and drugstores, to a pet shop and a luxurious-looking hotel, their exteriors all crafted from the same ubiquitous stone building material. Chief among the surrounding attractions towered a building with the title 'Timber Maniacs' erected above its doors in large, bulky lettering. It was a renowned magazine publishing company whose works Squall had become quite familiar with over the years. He had specifically taken interest with the 'battle series' publications, of which the Garden library kept the entire catalogue in stock. It otherwise had gained a reputation in years past for its freelance writings and op-ed works, though had supposedly begun shifting away at Galbadia's behest for long-standing suspicion of sowing dissent among the populace.

Before long the group had trailed away from the inner city to arrive at the western outskirts, the elegant cobbled streets giving way to rough, uneven pavement beneath their feet. The roads became far narrower and less traveled, an increasing number of buildings they passed having been boarded up and left to wither, while the few not condemned showed little signs of routine maintenance. Watts led the party on a twisting and turning trek down alley after dank alley, Squall paying expert attention to his footing as they traversed over potholes and all manner of refuse.

"Man," Zell murmured, nearly tripping over a pile of gravel. "Sure doesn't look like the friendliest part of town."

"This used to be the city industrial sector way back when, sir," Watts replied, turning the corner. "Timber's big export was always our lumber, and all kinds of goods produced from it. But after Galbadia invaded, they burned most of the forests to the ground hunting down the resistance, and the whole trade went along with it."

"Wow," Selphie breathed. "That must have been awful."

"Yes, miss. The jobs-market crashed, the economy tanked, and a lot of good men and women went broke. We didn't just lose our sovereignty as a nation, we lost any kind of financial independence we ever had, and there's been no signs of it turning around. That's what we're fighting for."

The group at last emerged from the network of refuse-strewn alleys, to arrive by the side of a lengthy chain-link fence topped by razor-wire stretching far down the lane. On the other side stood a looming, rusted metallic complex, its exterior windows caked with years' worth of grime or shattered altogether. Training his eyes to peer though the gaps of the partition, Squall noticed a set of railroad tracks extending from the rear end of the facility and trailing off toward the wilderness beyond, likely intersecting with one of the main rail-lines as it wound back in the direction of the city proper. Watts strode forward, fumbled for a moment with a clearly sheared-through portion of the chain fence, and drew the iron mesh back to form an opening for the trio to pass through.

Squall took the lead, reaching through and placing his bag on the inside before navigating his frame through the makeshift hole. He ducked his head low to clear the narrow opening, attempting to keep himself perfectly central so as not to catch his jacket on a sheared piece of the metal grating. He touched down on the other side without a fuss, returning his bag to his shoulder as he cleared the way for his teammates to follow. Zell came next, followed by Selphie who nearly toppled over from failing to raise her boot high enough above the bottom lip. She righted herself swiftly with a grimace of embarrassment as Watts stepped through behind, turning back to right the fence's exterior.

"We're so hideous you can't bring us through the front?" Zell joked.

"We can't afford to take any risks, sir," Watts informed him, motioning them onward to the building. "Barely anyone comes around these parts anymore, but the front gates are right on a major stretch of road. If someone sees a group of people just strolling on in and decides to report it, we're finished."

They continued on around to the back of the complex, approaching a large hangar-like extension to the rear from which the railroad tracks shot off. Watts guided them to a rusted side door, twisting the handle and forcing it open with an audible creak.

 _No locks? No guards? What happened to not taking any risks?_

The entrance opened to the base of a dimly lit stairwell, the musky stench of mildew and corrosion washing over Squall's senses and driving him to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Beyond the rising sun to their backs creeping across the shadowy floor ahead, the only light leading to the top of the multi-tiered flight of steps came from a set of faintly powered emergency lamps. Watts strode unflinchingly into the dark, suffocating hole, starting up the steps to the second floor landing as Zell closed the door behind them, engulfing the stairwell in near pitch-black once more.

"I can barely see a thing!" Selphie complained as she fumbled to find her footing on the first step.

"Sorry, miss," Watts apologized as he doubled back to assist her. "But with the power lines cut to this place, all we've got is our own external generator to work with. We need to make the most of what we get from it, and right now it needs to go to our crew, so they can finish up preparations for the mission tomorrow."

"And what kind of preparations would those be?" Squall questioned as he gripped the railing and pulled himself upward.

"Why don't you take a look for yourself, sir?"

Slowly but surely, the foursome stumbled up to reach the landing and stepped through the doors at the top, emerging onto an elevated steel catwalk overlooking a spacious hangar. The raised platforms stretched around the perimeter of the massive room, breaking off at the fore and leading up via a constructed metal staircase toward what appeared to be a windowed office wing. A set of large bay doors sat at the rear, from which the train tracks progressed to the center of the room. On the floor below rested a heavily modified yellow and green painted locomotive, with additional twin turbines attached to either side of its rear and a bulky cooling system affixed to its top as a countermeasure to prevent overheating. The term "Raiders" had been sloppily graffitied across the back left-hand side, accompanied by a mural of a skull directly below. A red painted coach car had been strangely coupled to the front of the locomotive rather than the back, for reasons Squall could not begin to guess, upon which no less than eight technicians feverishly worked. Several bore welding irons and protective face-masks, sparks flying and crackling as they touched up and sealed the metallic paneling in place.

"Sirs!" Watts called to the rebel conglomerate on the ground level, the irons sputtering out abruptly as the technicians turned their heads and raised their masks in acknowledgment. "The SeeDs have arrived to assist us!"

Instantly a choir of hooping and hollering sprung to life, reverberating through the vast hangar. The sudden jubilation was such that Squall couldn't help but think it premature. They had yet to be informed as to the specifics of their mission, or be given a battle plan of any sort, and yet these people already seemed to be celebrating as if they had been liberated from oppression.

"Welcome to the fight!" a young dark-haired man called up from the bottom over the receding din.

He quickly climbed the adjacent metal staircase to their level, Squall noticing his face sported a goatee of the same shade as he drew closer. His attire was almost entirely comprised of blue fabric, his baggy pants a dark navy and his shirt a striking indigo, offset only by his tan colored hiking shoes which clanked on the rungs as he rose to greet them.

"Name's Zone," he extended his hand. "Leader of the Forest Owls. Happy to have you aboard."

"Squall," he accepted the handshake firmly, noting how flimsy the man's own grip seemed in his own. "I'm the squad leader. This is Zell and Selphie."

"Nice to meet'cha!" Selphie beamed, shaking his hand in turn, followed by Zell.

"We were getting a little worried that SeeD had just ignored our request," Zone admitted, withdrawing his arm. "Wouldn't be the first time, or even the fourth. So, that's one big load off our chests, now. As you can see, we're just putting the finishing touches on our train."

"And what's it all for?" Squall impatiently asked. "We're still in the dark here, so let's just get right down to it. What's the objective?"

"We'll get to the briefing shortly," Zone assured him. "We've got a whole physical diorama set up to go over it with you. But first, let's get you sorted. Watts, show them to their quarters, and after they've dropped their things off we'll assemble in the meeting room."

"What about our princess, sir?" the slouching boy addressed his superior. "Is she still napping?"

"She hasn't come down yet." Zone mused. "I've still got a few things to look over on the car first. Squall was it? Could you do me a favor and go get her? Her room's on the top level. Up those stairs over that way, turn right and head to the door at very end of the hall. Can't miss it."

"Pardon my asking," Squall furrowed his brow in annoyance. "But were we hired to run errands?"

"N-no, nothing like that," Zone flinched as he backed away slightly, his previously stoic demeanor falling away at once. "You're not… _angry_ , are you?"

The prior handshake alone had been indication enough that the man possessed little self-confidence. Having now so easily yielded to Squall's imposition, he was left with little of his own that this group could possibly prove a viable force to carry out their lofty ideals of revolution.

"Ow!" the rebel leader doubled over, clutching at his torso. "My stomach's acting up…"

Squall had heard enough genuine cries of pain in his life, whether in training or on the shores of Dollet less than two weeks earlier, to know that it was merely a performance, and an exceedingly unconvincing one at that.

 _If the bar for leadership is set this low, maybe I've got a shot after all._

"This is the last time for this kind of thing," he firmly declared. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Absolutely," Zone mock grunted, turning and starting back down the stairs to the bottom with haste. "Thank you."

"I'll take your bag, sir," Watts chimed in, his tone clearly less cheery than it had been earlier.

"No, you won't," Squall grumbled as he unwound the duffel-bag from his shoulder and held it out to Zell. Although it positively tore him apart to be trusting the safekeeping of his belongings and gunblade to the overly-excitable blonde, it was astoundingly the better option at the present juncture.

"Be careful with it."

Zell accepted the heavy luggage without a word, and Squall took off down the catwalk in the direction Zone had indicated to him. He climbed the metal staircase to the upper floors in silence, passing through the doorway at the top to arrive at a long corridor stretching in either direction. The faded wallpaper of the abandoned office block had long since begun to peel off, exposing the mold-covered drywall behind it at sporadic intervals. He turned right as instructed and began his short trek to the end, passing by a bulletin board with several tattered pieces of paper left still clinging to it. Most appeared to be old quarterly reports of distribution and sales figures, with the one outlier being a cut-out article from an issue of Timber Maniacs detailing an organization by the name of "Roshfall Lumber".

Many of the doors along the way hung ajar seemingly without care, their interiors entirely gutted of all but the most basic components of furniture. The company's collapse appeared to have been swift in the aftermath of the Galbadian siege, seemingly liquidated overnight and later ransacked for all it had to offer. Such was to be expected with the coming of the sudden and rampant deforestation as Watts had described. Squall could envision the burning woodlands vividly in his mind's eye, the billowing smoke soaring high into atmosphere against the midday skies. So clear was the image that he could swear he had witnessed it with his very own eyes. He finally reached the end of the corridor, approached the last door to the left-hand side, and rapped it twice.

"Come in…" a muffled and groggy moan emanated from behind.

 _Let's just get this over with,_ Squall thought as he twisted the knob and swung the door open.

His eyes instantly widened in surprise as he was struck by the sight of the ornately decorated room, the compulsion to shield his vision from its splendor a very real one. The amount of work that must have gone into renovating the former office space relative to the disheveled state of the rest of the building was simply ludicrous. The walls and ceiling had been coated in an all-encompassing dark pink, homey and romantic in the low-key lighting from the bedside table-lamp. The far side of the room to his left featured an elegant granite dressing table and a mirror, with all manner of beauty supplies strewn across its counter. Beside it stood a looming mahogany dresser, and beside that a queen-sized bed, its duvet and pillows the same shade of pink as the rest of the room.

Nestled within the covers laid a distinctly feminine figure with mussed dark hair, who slowly raised herself from the mattress as Squall stepped inside. She casually tossed the sheets off to reveal a sleeveless blue duster sweater atop a black tank top, with matching blue warmers upon her slender forearms and a black ribbon tied around her left bicep. Her bottom figure consisted of a blue denim skirt atop a pair of black spats cutting off at the mid-thighs, leaving the remainder of her toned legs bare. She placed her left hand down on the mattress to steady herself, and slowly brought her head up to meet Squall's figure. The moment her eyes met his, her previously drowsy face suddenly shot awake into an expression of surprise. Squall's breath caught in his lungs as he felt a similar look overtake his own face. He knew this girl, beyond any doubt, from the deep brown eyes, to the rounded face and the caramel highlights in her hair. It was all as he remembered.

"You…" she at last eked out, utterly stunned as she looked him up and down. "You're the one… from the ball. Does that mean…!?"

Squall finally sucked in a breath, blinking twice to return his face to its natural resting expression. It now made sense as to why he had not seen her anywhere around the Garden over the past week. It did not however make it any more believable that he in particular had been the one assigned to this mission.

"Squall Leonhart, SeeD operative," he formally introduced himself. "My squadmates and I have been dispatched to assist you and your faction."

" _Yes!_ " she excitedly yelped as she flung herself from the bed and grappled him into a tight hug. "You came! SeeD really came!"

It took every bit of restraint Squall had in him not to instinctively knock her away, the sudden leap briefly registering as an incoming attack to his battle-hardened mind on a subconscious level. He begrudgingly allowed her to cling to him for a moment longer, her arms trembling in excitement as they remained wrapped around his figure, before he lowered his gloved hand to her bare shoulder and motioned for her to release him.

"Take it easy," he told her as she slowly unfurled her grasp.

"Sorry," she beamed up at him. "It's just that I'm so happy! I've been sending requests to Balamb Garden for more than half a year now, but I never got any response back. I'm so glad I went there and spoke to Cid in person!"

"Oh," Squall murmured, recalling her passing mention of being on the lookout for someone that evening. "So the person you were looking for at the ball was the Headmaster?"

"Well," she averted her eyes, backing up slightly and seating herself once more on the edge of the bed. "Yes and no. Do you know Seifer Almasy?"

The very utterance of the name was enough to send a pang of physical pain through Squall's gut.

"… yeah," he muttered with equal parts dread and contempt.

"I thought so," she softly noted, brushing her flowing black hair away from her face. "Seifer and I met almost a year ago now, and we really hit it off. I told him all about us and what we're fighting for, and he got really fired up about helping us out. We kept in touch via letters after that, sort of like pen-pals, I guess. I mentioned how I wasn't having any luck getting in touch with SeeD, and he swore he'd find a way to make it happen for me. About a month ago he sent me a letter telling me he could get me into the Garden as his date for the SeeD ball. Of course, I didn't realize he'd gotten put on the catering staff at the last minute."

She chuckled at the recollection, as Squall cast his memory back to that fateful night nine days earlier. He remembered his chance meeting with Seifer immediately after his induction into SeeD, and how he had appeared to be in remarkably high spirits for someone faced with so much punishment. Apparently his placement on the catering staff that evening had been a blessing in disguise, the circumstances of which he had clearly neglected to inform her of. For so-called 'pen-pals' however, the manner in which she spoke so fondly of him suggested there was something more there.

"Anyway," she continued. "I finally found him, and… he's got this scar on his face now, just like yours."

 _That really is going to haunt me to my grave, isn't it?_

"So, are you guys, like, blood-brothers or something?"

"It's a long story," Squall brushed the comment off, resisting the urge to retch at the insinuation. "But no, nothing like that. Just… wounds from training."

"I see," she breathed with a momentary look of concern, before her features quickly regained a coy smile. "Well, at any rate, it's nice to properly meet you… 'Squall', was it? My name's Rinoa… Rinoa Heartilly."

She gracefully extended her hand to him, which he gently shook.

"I've gotta say," she slyly teased, her hand maintaining its clasp upon his for several moments longer. "I didn't realize SeeD members could dance so well."

"It's something we all practice during espionage training," he emotionlessly informed her. "Always approach your target inconspicuously at a dance party. It's one of many various skills SeeDs are expected to learn."

"Oh," she sighed as she drew her hand back. "So, it's work related. That's… disappointing."

 _What does she want from me?_

"But, back on track, Seifer helped introduce me to Cid. I wasn't sure what to expect from the head of Balamb Garden, but he's such a nice man, isn't he? I really didn't have much hope that he'd approve a contract for a measly little group like us, but once I explained the situation, he had it drafted up for us right away! With your help, we'll finally be able to take back this city!"

"On that note," Squall cut her off abruptly. "Let's get moving. Zone asked me to come get you for the mission briefing."

"Ah, sure thing!" Rinoa replied, quickly rising to her feet and starting for the dressing mirror. "Just let me fix my hair real quick, okay? And, uh, Squall?"

She turned back to him, her face now bearing a look of apprehension as she gazed at him pleadingly.

"Is… _he_ here, too?"

There was definitely something more there, something that Squall could not begin to understand the reasoning behind. Seifer was smug and arrogant, this girl cheery and naive; their respective personalities appeared as though they could not be further opposed to one another. And yet, somehow the two had found common ground and presumably progressed to form a relationship of some caliber. Seifer's open declaration to him in the midst of the field exam rang in his ears once more.

* * *

 _"Someday," he bellowed, pointing his gunblade directly up at him, "I'm gonna tell you about my_ romantic _dream!"_

* * *

 _His 'romantic dream', huh…_

"No," he bluntly shot down her hopes. "He's not a SeeD. He didn't make the cut."

"He…" Rinoa started, averting her eyes once more in clear disappointment at having been deceived. "He didn't? That's… a real shame."

Her arms hung limply by her side as she turned around once more to face the mirror, reaching for a brush and quickly running it through her dark locks. She raised her hair in the back to straighten it, revealing a pair of white feathered designs in the image of angels wings sewn into the back of her duster sweater. Upon finishing, she picked up a slim chain necklace with a single silver ring entwined through it from the bureau, and threw it on over her head. She spun around toward Squall waiting in the doorway, slipped her feet into a pair of waiting black ankle-high boots, and flipped the light switch off before stepping through into the hall.

"The meeting room's on the second floor," she told him as she closed the door behind her. "Let's get going. We've got a lot to go over for tomorrow."

The two retraced the path Squall had taken down the hallway, reaching the exit leading into the hangar and stepping back onto the catwalk. The technicians continued to weld away at the red passenger car, as Rinoa led the way back down the metallic staircase to the second level. They stepped off at the bottom and passed through the neighboring doorway, framed by the large bay windows Squall had observed from his initial entry point to the right side of the room. The entrance opened to a grand office space, the blocky grid-like indents pressed into the floor indicating that the expanse had previously been occupied by row after row of cubicles. It now stood largely bereft of furniture save for roughly ten chairs evenly spaced around a sizable table propped up in the center. Zone, Watts, Zell and Selphie sat waiting around the circumference, all turning their gaze to greet them as the two stepped inside and shut the door behind them.

"That's Zell and Selphie," Squall pointed his teammates out to Rinoa as they drew closer to the table, and she moved forward to introduce herself. They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries quickly as Squall took his seat beside his comrades.

He took note of the tabletop, upon which a large diorama of a wooded stretch of three parallel rail-lines had been laid out, along with two model trains seated atop. The first rested on the middle set of tracks, headed by a green locomotive, with three passenger cars coupled behind. The first and third in sequence bore a similar shade of green, while the middle car was a hideously and evidently hand-painted crimson. The second train rested on the upper most rails, just before a switch point connecting to the middle tracks. It consisted of yet another red passenger car in front, this one a proper store-made model, with a yellow locomotive to the rear. It was obviously representative of the project currently being assembled in the hangar, though the reasoning behind its backwards coupling remained unclear.

"Looks like everyone's here," Zone announced, rising from his seat at the head of the table. "So, let's get this briefing underway. To put it plainly, if we succeed with this operation, the Forest Owls will be forever known in the pages of Timber's independence!"

"That big, huh?" Zell questioned, Squall noting a hint of skepticism in his tone.

"You bet," Rinoa answered him. "It all started when we managed to get a hold of some top-secret info from Galbadia a few weeks ago."

"Gathering information is my specialty, miss!" Watts saluted, visibly chuffed by the acknowledgment of his efforts.

"The long and short of it is this," Zone steered the briefing back on track. "President Vinzer Deling will be coming into the city tomorrow morning via a private train from the capital, and we're going to kidnap him before he gets here."

"Holy _shit!_ " Zell blurted out in awe.

"Exactly," Zone responded. "And that's why we desperately needed to hire professionals for this job."

 _How much money are we doing this contract for, again?_

"Everyone please take a look at the diorama," he instructed, motioning to the yellow locomotive in the upper right hand corner of the display. "It's not built to scale, or representative of the exact terrain, but it should at least give you an idea of what the overall plan is."

 _That sure fills me with confidence._

"Pay close attention, because this might get a little confusing. The yellow train up here on the top rail is our transport, which you've seen out in the hangar. Attached to it is our own replica of the private car the president will be traveling in. Let's just call it the 'dummy car'."

"Question!" Selphie interjected. "Why is it attached to the _front_ of the engine? Is that a mistake?"

"That's intentional," Rinoa assured her. "It looks weird, I know, but it's all part of the plan."

"Anyway," Zone continued. "The president's train on the middle rail is made up of the locomotive and three passenger cars. Deling's is the red one in the middle. The other two will have security forces on board. We'll call them the first and second escorts. Our ultimate objective is to disconnect the president's car from the rest of the train, link it up with ours, replace it with the dummy car and escape back here."

"And how the heck does _that_ work!?" Zell wondered aloud as he stared in bewilderment at the setup before him. Squall silently concurred. It would be one thing if the president's car were affixed to the very end of the train, but its positioning squarely in the middle appeared to make such a plan impossible.

"Allow me to demonstrate. Our first matter of business is getting you three on top of the car itself. The route the train will be taking from up around Obel Lake runs through a small tunnel in the side of a mountain. The openings on either side feature a concrete support frame jutting out from above that's climbable. We'll drop you off beforehand to give you enough time to ready yourselves."

"You're saying we have to jump on top of a moving train as it passes below!?" Selphie shot up. "There's gotta be a better way than that!"

"There isn't," Zone bluntly told her.

"Well, answer me this," Zell posed. "Even if we do land safely on top, aren't the guards going to notice three huge thuds suddenly slamming down on the roof?"

"Uh…"

Zone quickly shared a sideways glance with Watts, and then he with Rinoa, their faces all at once flush with embarrassment. Squall could feel his left eye twitch in disbelief as the deafening silence swathed the table. For all of their brazen confidence in this plan of theirs – or perhaps it was foolishness – that they had failed to account for such a critical oversight was telling. Fortunately for them, there was indeed a viable method for the trio to slow their momentum upon impact that Zell had neglected to consider, no doubt due to his own lack of aptitude with regard to the given realm of spellcraft.

"There's a way," Squall addressed him as he unclipped the silver metallic sphere from his belt and brought it up for all to see.

"Yeah!" Selphie chimed. "I was just about to bring that up, too! Great minds think alike, huh?"

"Man," Zell moaned. "You _know_ I can't pull that trick off!"

"Then I guess you'll just have to piggyback on Squall!" Selphie teased him.

 _Why_ you _can do it is the real mystery here._

"Okay," Rinoa jumped in to steer the conversation back on track and attempt to salvage their professional image. "So, we've figured it all out? Let's get on with it, Zone."

"Right," he started up again, motioning to the enemy train. "So, once you're on board, you'll proceed across to the first escort car, and uncouple it from the president's car to the rear. Watts has procured a set of rappel cables for you to use, and it goes without saying that you'll have to make sure no one on board sees you. We have it on authority that Deling can't stand being constantly surrounded by his guards, and traditionally keeps to himself on his personal car, so that's in our favor at least."

Zone reached over onto the diorama and moved the train along to the first switch point where the upper rail joined with the middle. He separated the front two cars from the back, leaving a gaping opening between the two halves of the dissected train.

"Once the cars are disconnected," Rinoa took over, grabbing hold of the yellow train and dummy car on the upper rail. "We'll move in and link our train in place with theirs."

She guided the two cars down the adjacent switch-point and into the gap on the middle set of tracks, connecting the front of the dummy car with the first escort, and the back of the yellow locomotive to the president's car. All six cars now stood linked together on the single stretch of railway.

"You have _got_ to be joking!" Zell threw his arms up in disbelief. "Do you realize just how _exact_ you'd have to get the timing on the decoupling for this to work?"

"O-our tech specialist, Blitz has done all the calculations," Zone informed him with an audible shake in his voice, stepping back slightly in the face of the outburst. "He's determined the exact point along the route where we need to detach the cars, so that the back half will naturally slow down from the rails' friction, and give us just the right amount of leeway to squeeze in and reconnect. We've prepared these for you to use."

He dipped beneath the table momentarily, sliding a drawer open and bringing up a set of digital stopwatches, each with an elongated strap to allow the device to be hung around one's neck. He worked his way around the table, handing one to each of the SeeD operatives. Squall accepted it, cradling it in his hand as he read the display: _2:24.87_.

"Taking into account the speed of a standard Galbadian express-line and the distance to the switch point, if you start the timer as soon as the train exits the tunnel, it should theoretically hit zero the instant you need to perform the disconnection. We've tested it with our own engine and the dummy car before we started remodeling it, and it gave us just the right gap."

"You're really hedging your bet on the speed of the train, though." Zell reminded him with concern. "If it's off by even a little bit, your whole plan goes up in smoke. Literally, since you'll end up slamming right into it."

"Then so be it," Rinoa firmly declared. "We've put too much planning into this to pull out now. You three just perform your roles like we tell you, and leave the rest to us. We'll _make_ it work."

 _It's only our lives you're toying with._

"Well, _excuse_ me, _princess_!" Zell shot back.

"Once the connection is established," Zone interrupted, reaching over to further fiddle with the exhibit. "We'll have to decouple the dummy car and the second escort at the same time to make our getaway. Luckily, the timing on that one won't be so tight, and we'll be able to send some guys up to assist. We'll pull out at the next switch point further down the line and escape with the president's car in tow."

"And what about the second escort?" Zell asked again. "It's not going to be able to catch back up with the rest of the train on its own."

"Not our problem," Rinoa calmly replied. "By the time it slows down enough for the guards to notice, we'll be long gone."

"If they don't notice you right away," Squall finally spoke up. "These passenger cars have _windows_ , don't they?"

"Sure, they do. We haven't included it in the diorama, but there's still a decent enough amount of foliage between the tracks along this route to keep us obscured."

"And what about the dummy car? What if someone decides to check on the president?"

"Not an issue, sir!" Watts cut in. "I managed to get some photos, and we've had the rest of the guys hard at work remodeling the car inside and out to match the real deal. We've even installed a voice-activated recording in the car's bathroom; when someone near it speaks, it'll play a clip of spliced audio telling them to leave him in peace."

"You really think the guards are going to be dim-witted enough to fall for something like that?" Zell questioned with a raised eyebrow.

 _Maybe if that idiot from my dreams were the one on duty._

"As long as we get in and get out quickly, it'll all be fine," Zone assured him. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah," Selphie opened her mouth. "It's not really an important one, but… I was just thinking, this diorama looks pretty good overall, but why does the president's car look so shabby?"

Squall had taken notice of the amateurish paint job immediately upon sitting down at the table, but had entirely disregarded it in light of having learned of the borderline suicide mission they were to be charged with carrying out. That Selphie had the temerity to ask such an insignificant question in spite of that was unthinkable. Or rather, it would have been for almost anyone else he had ever known.

"Yes, Rinoa made that one herself, miss," Watts revealed. "We bought everything else at a gift store."

"Ha," Zell laughed. "I thought some little kid made it."

"Oh, shut up!" Rinoa snapped at him. "I made it look that way on purpose! It's… it's supposed to be symbolic of my hatred towards Deling and everything he stands for!"

"Wow," Selphie sarcastically quipped. "You must _really_ hate him, then."

"Obviously. Let's just wrap this up. We'll review everything later with the rest of the gang at dinner. We're rolling out of here at 5:30 in the morning, so make sure you all get enough rest tonight. Tomorrow's the day we finally end Deling's reign of terror, once and for all!"

"Hear, hear!" Zone boasted.

 _At least they've got the courage and determination, for whatever that's worth._

"Meeting adjourned!" Rinoa declared, the Forest Owls promptly rising from their seats in near unison and making their way out into the hangar once more, leaving the three SeeDs to ponder over their newly assigned mission.

"Still think I was being too quick to judge?" Squall directed his ire at Zell, the blonde youth slumped over in consternation.

"I… I just thought they'd have a lot of this stuff planned out better," he muttered.

"What can we do?" Selphie asked rhetorically, tilting her head back in her seat to face the ceiling. "We've gotta follow whatever orders they give us. To uphold the Garden's reputation and all."

"Once the operation is finished, I'm going to ask to have a look at their copy of the contract," Squall affirmed. "There's no way any of this was part of the original agreement."

"Good thinking," Zell agreed. "So, wanna see our quarters? It's what you'd expect living in a dump like this, but they've got bedrolls for us, at least."

Squall's mind was still fatigued beyond belief from his lack of real sleep aboard the train from Balamb. While a glimpse at his watch display showed him it had yet to reach noon, he was so exhausted that should he fall asleep now, he imagined that he may not actually wake up until that very next morning. And at that moment, such a scenario was perhaps the best thing for him.

"Sure," he rose to his feet, setting his watch's alarm as a precaution. He followed his squadmates down the adjoining corridor from the meeting room, his mind still processing his reunion with the very girl he had danced with that night, and the unbelievably ill-conceived mission she had now ordered him to execute.

 _Stubborn, overly-ambitious… maybe they're not so different after all…_

* * *

 _The boy stood slumped against the cold of the great stone pillar, the white noise of the pouring rain the only constant to keep him grounded in reality. The great torrent drenched his tattered jeans, soaked his t-shirt, and matted his dark locks to his forehead. He remained immobile and seemingly numb to the presence of the raging storm, as still more water streamed down his cheeks from his puffy and blurry eyes. There was no one that could comfort him now, nothing that could take away the pain that ate at his very soul. He was alone. She was gone._

" _Sis..." he sniffled, his young voice broken and whimpering. "Why… why did you leave me? Where did you go? I miss you… so much…"_


	11. Chapter 9 - The Kidnapping

9

 **CHAPTER 9 – THE KIDNAPPING**

"I can't _believe_ that we're actually about to try this," Zell grunted as he pulled himself up the rappel cable and onto the concrete outcropping.

"I can," Squall countered as he unfastened the cable from the climbing harness affixed underneath his intertwined belts and stared out over the railroad tracks extending from below. "Doesn't make it any less absurd, though."

The darkness of the pre-dawn sky had begun to gradually illuminate, as the sun threatened to clear the horizon ahead of them within the hour. It had been completely pitch-black upon their departure from the Forest Owls' base, and Squall could only hope that the president's train would arrive in time for them to make use of what remained of the fast dwindling shroud of shadows. As far-fetched as the plan already sounded in theory, its probability of success only became so much more slim without the cover of night to operate by. He had reluctantly left his gunblade in the custody of the Forest Owls aboard their train-base, as had Selphie her nunchaku in light of their cumbersome nature. The last thing he needed was the added risk of his sheathed weapon unintentionally clanging on any portion of the carriage as he moved across its length. Either side of the railway was lined by an adequate amount of forestry as Rinoa had assured him, albeit thinning at sporadic intervals and clearly still in the midst of a decades-long re-growth process.

"Well," Zell sarcastically mused, unwinding the cable from his own harness around his waist and beginning to coil it up into the backpack they had been provided. "I know _I_ got a good night's sleep last night. Who else is ready to be blown sky-high when the train-wreck happens?"

"Aw, don't be such a pessimist!" Selphie playfully chided him, dangling her dainty legs over the concrete lip as they waited. "I thought that was Squall's job!"

"A pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist," Squall flatly recited in resentment. "You're not the least bit concerned this could easily end in our deaths?"

"Of course, I am," she insisted. "But I believe we can pull it off. As long as there's a chance, we've got to give it a shot, right?"

 _Remind me never to go gambling with you._

While Squall had largely managed to catch up on his severe sleep deprivation over the course of the previous day, very little of it could have been considered sound by any metric. True to Zell's word, their accommodations had been of an ascetic and slap-dash persuasion, little more than a trio of gutted former offices with bedrolls and leftover desks upon which to organize their belongings. The lack of proper back support, or even head support by way of the under-stuffed pillow they had supplied him with, was enough to make him long for the bed in his new room back at the Garden, or more immediately, the plush mattress the Owls' darling princess slept on. The vibrant pink walls and luxurious dressing commodities of her room were a blatant contrast to the barren state of the rest of the facility, and even the rooms of the other members he had glimpsed following his mid-day nap. It was little more than a sickening waste of resources for the sake of frivolity alone. He knew not of how Rinoa had come to join the resistance faction, but could only assume that she had come from a significantly more privileged upbringing than the rest of its operatives. Her ballroom dancing skills notwithstanding, there was an unmistakable and irksome air of entitlement surrounding her demeanor.

"I'm telling you though," Zell moaned as he slung the backpack over his shoulders. "That float-technique thing, I've tried it over and over again, and I've never been able to sustain it."

"I said it before," Selphie reminded him. "You'll just have to piggyback."

"Oh, come on! Spare a man his dignity, will ya!?"

"How can _you_ do it?" Squall finally broached the question that had plagued his mind since the field exam. "It's an advanced technique, one that requires trained focus and precision in channeling the energy. It's not something you can just pick up in a matter of days."

"Oh," Selphie blushed, clearly not expecting to have been put on the spot so suddenly. "Well, you see… even though we don't actually use GFs at Trabia, we had classes in my transfer studies program where we went over the kinds of techniques SeeDs use in battle, and how they're performed. I just kinda took notes and, you know, put it to use once they gave me mine."

"Knowing how something works, and developing the skill to actually do it are two completely different things," Squall grumbled, her story providing little of substance to clear up his confusion.

"Beginner's luck, I guess?" she smiled awkwardly.

 _On second thought, maybe you're the ideal person to go gambling with._

If true, it would have to have been the most unbelievably quick uptake in the history of SeeD, placing her on a tier of prodigiousness beyond even Quistis. It seemed unthinkable that such a ditzy and clumsy young girl could display such natural aptitude with seemingly no struggle. In addition to her effective utilization of wind spellcraft, she had likewise proven herself equally capable of conjuring lightning atop the Dollet communication tower. While the two distinct schools of magic did not conflict with one another in terms of elemental nature, her observed level of competence with both made it very difficult for Squall to determine which was indicative of her Guardian Force's own innate disposition. Regardless of which was indeed her field of specialization, either at the very least provided an appropriate degree of counterbalance to his own fire nature, or Zell's mastery of earth.

"Well, let's hope some of that luck'll rub off on us right now," the unusually demure Zell commented, adjusting his own harness. "Because we're gonna need every bit we can get."

"I think Squall's caught a bit of it already," Selphie winked slyly as she rose to her feet.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, not taking kindly to the impish spring in her voice.

"Oh, you _know_ what I'm talking about, you dog!" she slapped him across the shoulder playfully. "You think I didn't see you dancing up a storm with a certain someone a week ago? I'm telling ya, this is a sign!"

"Seriously?" Zell perked his head up. "I never saw _that_."

"She was there looking for her date, so he could introduce her to the Headmaster and help her get this contract filed," Squall insisted. "She's already got someone. She just _used_ me for a good time."

"Oh," Selphie sighed in disappointment. "That's too bad. And you looked like you were having such a good time!"

"She dragged me into it. I just went along with it because I didn't want to cause a scene."

It was half true, at least to the extent that he had resisted becoming physical with her when she had initially pulled him into the circle of dancing couples. Try as he might however, it was impossible to deny the subsequent elation he had felt in the moment as they waltzed, only to have it just as quickly ripped away as he was left standing alone in the middle of the hall at the end. To have later learned that he had been used for the pursuit of his arch rival was to have poured salt on the still mending wound.

"Really?" Zell asked with a hint of ire. "Glad to hear _she_ got that kind of consideration, at least."

 _Don't start with me…_

"So, who's the 'prince', then? Would I know the guy?"

 _He's going to love this._

Squall opened his mouth to respond, when a faint rumbling came into earshot, beginning to emanate from the gaping maw of the tunnel below. He spread his legs abruptly, preemptively steadying himself for the oncoming vibrations that were sure to follow. Moments later a train horn sounded, the blaring klaxon shredding the silence of the early morning wilderness all around them.

"Looks like it's showtime!" Selphie shouted above the rising roar of the oncoming engine.

"Get on!" Squall motioned to Zell, lowering himself to one knee and propping his hunched back to the blonde teen, engaging the sphere attached to his belt as he did so.

"Not a word about this when we get back home!" he demanded as he reluctantly climbed aboard and slung his arms around Squall's neck. "We both take this to the grave, got it!?"

"Be careful what you wish for!"

He rose back up to his feet with his passenger secured, as he clutched at the stopwatch hung around his neck and untangled the fabric of its strap from his lion pendant's chain. The success of the operation would hinge in no small part upon their exact timing, to exploit a razor-thin window of opportunity that, as Zell had rightly pointed out during the previous day's meeting, could very easily come to naught with the slightest differential in the train's speed. Simulations and physics calculations assumed machine-like accuracy and consistency, and could never account for human error. Theoretical possibility did not necessarily equate to something that could be replicated in practice, and they were on the verge of discovering firsthand if this were indeed one of those cases.

The rumbling drew ever nearer, Squall's thumb hovering just above the pause switch as he waited for the first glimpse of the train to clear the tunnel. The horn sounded again, now almost directly beneath his feet as he rushed forward as fast as he could with Zell upon his back. Selphie moved her feet into motion alongside him, mirroring his speed and trajectory. He reached the edge of the concrete frame just as the front of the locomotive shot from below, depressing the stopwatch switch at once and leaping with all of his might to carry himself and Zell forward. The speeding train stretched from the opening, whirring by quickly as gravity took its course and they fell toward the string of emerging cars. Squall focused the energy into his legs as he had trained, willing it to form a flotation buffer to break his fall. They rapidly decelerated just before colliding with the roof of the second escort, Squall and Selphie touching down with both feet planted and immediately hunching forward to steady themselves with one hand atop the zooming car.

Squall felt a load quickly relieve itself from his back, as Zell maneuvered himself off and dropped to his knee upon the metal roofing. The rushing wind whipped through Squall's thick brown hair, as he brought the timer up in his free hand and strained his eyes at its display: _2:10, 2:09…_

He glimpsed back over his shoulder to his waiting teammates and motioned forward, fighting his way across the canopy in defiance of the perpetual gust. They inched forward as quickly as their legs would allow, all the while taking care not to stomp upon the carriage for fear of generating excess noise. Squall at last came to the fore of the car, peered down into the divide to ensure there were no sentries present, and gingerly stepped across to the president's carriage. His teammates followed suit in silence, and the three crossed the regal red coach to the other side. The first faint glimmers of sunlight crept over the horizon in the distance, casting long shadows upon their frames and lighting up the array of trees whizzing by on either side.

 _1:36, 1:35…_

"I'll handle this one," Zell half-yelled above the whipping wind, as he unzipped his bag and retrieved the cable from within, clipping it back to his harness. "Give me your stopwatch. I couldn't switch mine on hanging off your back."

Realizing full well there was no time to argue, Squall quickly raised the timer up and over his head, passing it to Zell in exchange for the other end of the cable. He strung it to his own harness, re-linking the two of them together once again.

"Selphie, keep watch for me, okay?" Zell asked her as he threw the stopwatch around his neck.

"You bet!" she quipped, stepping over the gap between the cars to their front and peeking out slightly over the edge of the adjoining first escort car.

Zell backed up to the left edge of the train's roof slowly, as Squall shuffled back opposite him to extend the cable as much as possible for his descent. He began down the side, carefully easing himself over the drop as the sudden pull forced Squall to grip hard on the cable, bending his knees to better support his comrade's hanging weight. Inch by inch, he gradually allowed the rappel to slide further beyond the clasp of his black-gloved fingers, as Zell continued on his way down to the car's connection mechanism. Squall's prior studies had included an extensive seminar concerning the design and circuitry of various models of modern-day transportation, for the purposes of basic operation and sabotage in equal measures. The current standard-issue Galbadian carriages utilized a mechanized coupling system comprised of two retractable steel spokes to the front, magnetized and constructed to bind upon insertion into the matching slots on the rear of the car ahead. The control panel rested on the front-left exterior of each car, rendered inoperable and out of reach of passengers in the midst of a journey. It was up to Zell, now literally hanging by a thread, to operate the panel and retract the spokes as soon as the timer hit zero, and sheer dumb luck that a guard on-board the neighboring car did not glance out the rear windows toward the president's car.

The lingering minute slithered on at an agonizingly slow pace, Squall's heart pounding in his chest as he dug his heels into the textured metal canopy and gripped onto the cable with all of his might. Supported only by his harness and his feet pressed to the side of the carriage, Zell's outstretched right hand hovered before the panel below, ready to disengage the coupling the instant the timer in his left indicated so. With Selphie having yet to alert either of them of approaching guards, it seemed the ludicrously conceived operation was by some miracle going according to plan.

 _Don't get complacent,_ Squall reminded himself. _This is the most unpredictable part._

Zell jabbed the panel with lightning fast reflexes, a distinct pair of thunks sounding from below to Squall's right as the spokes instantaneously retracted. Selphie picked herself up from her knees upon the roof of the first escort and crossed the small chasm back to his side before the gap began to widen. To perform the re-connection with the Forest Owls' own car, the spokes would need to be re-engaged once enough distance had been cleared, so as to allow the president's car to magnetically couple to the rear before it slowed down. Squall continued to maintain his grip upon the cable, willing himself to ignore the discomfort of the lactic acid slowly building in his muscles.

"Let me help," Selphie insisted, taking hold of the cable herself and tugging with all her might.

What meager upper body strength she may have possessed by comparison to Squall's own was a welcome contribution in the face of the mounting strain, and eased the burden on his arms slightly. The divide between the two halves of the train slowly began to open up, widening little by little as the friction of the rails and the mounting wind-resistance alike began to take effect, until at last the previously-heard metallic thunks sounded from below once more. The pair gradually began to back up, putting the utmost care into each step as they pulled Zell up the side, the wind threatening to sweep them off at a moment's notice. The head of blonde hair finally cleared the top of the car as he hoisted himself up, wiping the sweat from his brow as he quickly removed the rappel from his harness.

"It's out of our hands now," he sighed as Squall wound the cable up and detached it from his own. "It's all up to them. Thanks for the assist, guys. Hard to believe it's gone this smoothly so far."

"It's weird," Selphie started, her tone unusually dour. "But I didn't see a single guard on that car. I peeked my head right over the edge for a sec, and there was no one inside."

"No one?" Squall repeated with unease, staring out across the slowly widening gap as the first escort and locomotive began to pull away from the president's car.

"Seriously!?" Zell questioned incredulously. "The Owls said they'd have guards on both! What gives!?"

"Have we got the right train?" Selphie worried aloud.

"Just hold on a minute," Squall commanded, slinging the coiled wire around his shoulder and kneeling upon the carriage's roof before the left side.

He reached into his jacket pocket and procured a small handheld mirror, bringing it before him and angling it over the edge. He maneuvered its position slightly to avoid the glare of daybreak, and tilted the reflection down to peer through the windows of the president's car. His eyes met nothing but regal blue drapery, drawn closed across each partition of thick, clearly bulletproof glass which lined the exterior.

"I could've told you the curtains were closed," Zell commented from his side.

 _Something's not right…_

"Here they come!" Selphie called from behind.

Squall spun around and focused his vision through the thinning thicket of trees to their right. On the other side of the lightly forested divide, the Forest Owls' modified yellow locomotive roared down the tracks, pushing along the arduously crafted replica of the very car they stood upon. Having the genuine article on hand by which to draw comparisons, the dummy car's paint job appeared significantly brighter than the dark, muted character of the real carriage. If what Selphie had claimed was true however, it no longer made any difference in the grand scheme of their plot. Indeed, all that mattered at that very moment was their driver's ability to make the impossibly tight squeeze into the now appropriately widened gap between the two halves of the enemy train. Squall watched wide-eyed as the dummy car and locomotive shot by to reach the switch point just ahead, and held his breath.

The red carriage swiveled from the parallel rail-line onto the connecting stretch of track, twisting along the curve and emerging directly behind the first escort immediately after it cleared the intersection. The yellow engine swooped in from behind and merged lanes moments before the president's car reached the crossing, the magnetized spokes audibly connecting to the rear in tandem.

"It worked!" Selphie celebrated.

"Just barely!" Zell exhaled with relief. "I seriously thought I was gonna have to change my pants for a second."

Squall too released his breath at long last, likewise awestruck at their unbelievable turn of luck. Or was it in fact skill? Perhaps he had indeed been too quick to judge their clients and their ability to carry out such a seemingly impossible abduction. Perhaps the faction's leadership triumvirate of Zone, Watts and Rinoa were in fact far more competent and calculating than he had been prepared to give them credit for.

 _No, this is all just one gigantic fluke._

"Awesome job!"

The voice came from the fore of the president's car, emerging from the newly closed rift. From the steel-runged ladder affixed to the rear of the yellow locomotive climbed Rinoa, still clad in her blue duster sweater, followed by a duo of Forest Owl operatives outfitted in khaki camo. She maneuvered herself over to their side, hoisting up the tail of her outfit as she stepped across. Squall could only wonder how she could consider such a choice of wardrobe appropriate for their current circumstances.

"We've got about three minutes until we reach the next switch point!" she yelled over the billowing breeze, her long black hair whipping wildly as she motioned back over her shoulder. "We're going to need to decouple both ends at the same time. Grat and Raldo will help keep lookout."

"From what Selphie tells us, we won't need to," Squall bluntly informed her. "She says there's no one aboard the first car."

"Even better!" she exclaimed. "Let's get moving."

"That doesn't strike you as odd? Kidnapping a world leader shouldn't be this simple."

"You call what I just did _simple!?_ " Zell cut in.

"You heard what Zone said about how Deling hates being surrounded by his guards," she countered, ignoring Zell's outburst. "We're wasting time! Let's just finish this up and make our getaway! Selphie, you head on over and help the guys with the decoupling at the front. They've got their own rappel gear. Squall, Zell, you're with me."

"Yes, ma'am!" Selphie quickly saluted before leaping back across to the roof of the locomotive and continuing on down its length with the two Owls.

Rinoa swiftly shoved off in the opposite direction, making her way back down the president's car to the second escort. Squall followed reluctantly, the pit in his stomach growing deeper all the while. They crossed over to the roof of the second escort, Squall retrieving the mirror from his pocket once again and angling it down to peer through the windows. In accordance with Selphie's account of the first car, the cold steel interior appeared entirely devoid of occupancy. He shifted the reflection left and right several times for good measure, and at no point caught sight of a single sign of human life aboard.

 _This is all wrong…_

"Lemme guess," Zell asked him as he stowed the mirror away. "No one's home?"

"Lifeless as a morgue," Squall affirmed, turning his stare to Rinoa crouched by his side. "Just how much do you trust the intel you got for this operation?"

"Watts has never let us down before," she insisted. "Let's just finish this up. Raldo will signal me when to hit the switch."

"Here we go again," Zell moaned as Squall handed him one end of the cable from around his shoulder.

The two hastily fastened it to their harnesses and proceeded to replicate their previously successful decoupling method. Zell lumbered down the side of the carriage at a far quicker pace than before, taking little care to minimize the amount of noise he generated. Squall gripped the taut cable firmly once more, Rinoa supporting him as Selphie had prior, as the blonde young man lowered himself to the side paneling of the car. He fiddled with the cover as before, his hand hovering over the switch to disengage the mechanism on command.

"We're going to have to pull him up fast," Rinoa commented to Squall. "We've got to get back across before the car fully separates. Then we'll be home free."

 _Somehow I don't think it's going to be that easy._

"A response of any kind would be appreciated."

"Affirmative," Squall obliged her, furrowing his brows in irritation as he waited for the signal to be passed down.

The operation had no business having gone off without so much as a single hitch thus far. Their insertion via flotation-buffer, while sensible given the intelligence briefing they had received, had been entirely unnecessary in hindsight. The absence of any kind of security aboard combined with the fully shrouded interior of the president's car had effectively rendered their chances of detection nonexistent. Such traveling conditions were far too lax for such an important figurehead of the entire Galbadian nation, and the more he ran the troubling incongruities through his mind, the more Squall began to consider the possibility that the Owls had been duped.

"Now!" Rinoa shouted down to Zell as Squall glimpsed the operative further along the train's length bring his elevated arm down.

Zell punched the switch, the spokes retracting with the same metallic thunk, and Squall and Rinoa heaved with all their might to raise him back up. He scurried up the side of the carriage rapidly, his feet pounding on the side of the fuselage as he rose. He reached the top and pulled himself onto the metal canopy, frantically racing to unclip the rappel from his harness. Squall did the same, quickly coiling the cable and following his two comrades over the gap. They touched down on the roof and made their way across, meeting up with Selphie and the two Owls where the locomotive and president's car connected.

Ahead to their left, Squall could see the junction coming up in the distance, a lone figure standing by the switch ready to activate it. The Galbadian locomotive roared past, pulling with it the first escort and dummy car. The instant the third car in the sequence passed, the man operated the switch by hand, shifting the Owls' locomotive down the curving path with the red car they stood upon in tow. Looking back, Squall saw the man just as quickly return the mechanism to its default position, just in time for the straggling second escort to continue rolling along the tracks after the rest of the train.

"We did it!" Selphie cheered, high-fiving the two khaki-clad operatives in celebration. Squall exchanged a sidelong glance with Zell, whose own expression clearly mirrored his own apprehension with regard to the current scenario.

"I told you it would all work out," Rinoa boasted as she grabbed hold of the ladder to lower herself. "We'll return to the base at once and confront Deling as soon as we arrive."

"I'd advise against that," Squall flatly rebuked her. "We need to check the car _now_. There's no way this isn't a trap. For all we know, there could be a bomb inside."

"You really think so?" the young man named Raldo asked.

"It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would they have no guards at all on the train?"

"I'm with Squall," Zell agreed. "This is just too sketchy."

"Fine," Rinoa acquiesced as she dropped to the rear of the locomotive and opened the door. "Can't say I'm not curious either. Come get your gear, and we'll head on in together."

Without a word, the squad one by one descended the steel rungs and re-entered the modified yellow engine, its interior significantly rusted and worn down from years of disuse prior to its salvaging and re-purposing. Squall rapidly unwound his belts to remove the climbing harness beneath, before he retrieved his gunblade and Selphie her nunchaku from their resting places against the wall. He checked that the revolver attachment was fully stocked with six rounds before clipping the sheath back in place to his left side.

"You two stay back here." Rinoa ordered her fellow Owls. "I'll call you if we need backup."

"Yes, ma'am!" the two saluted together.

"Everyone ready?" she turned back to the SeeDs, her hands on her hips.

"Let us take the lead," Squall advised her as he about faced to the rear door and slid it open once more.

He stepped across the coupling to stand beside the doorway to the red coach car, the remains of the woodlands whizzing by as a blur of muted green and brown on either side of the speeding train. He drew his gunblade slowly yet deliberately, turning back to face his teammates. Selphie held her large red and gold decorated nunchaku before her, the thick chain jangling as the train swayed under their feet. Zell stood by her side, his own harness removed as he spread his legs apart and readied himself to charge forward into the fray at a moment's notice. To the very rear, still standing in the doorway of the locomotive was Rinoa, armed only with an expression of resolute determination.

"On three," Squall spoke lowly, reaching over to grasp the handle of the sliding steel door and closing his grip around it, slightly rocking it back and forth to check that it was not locked. "One… two… three!"

He yanked the door ajar ferociously, and Zell rushed inside without hesitation, followed by Selphie immediately after. The instant her petite figure passed through the door-frame, he swung himself through and raised his gunblade before him in a battle-ready stance. His eyes passed over the private cabin quickly, a spacious and dimly lit array of crimson and gold meeting his gaze. The dark blue drapery upon the windows to either side blocked out any outside light, the only illumination of the room coming from a series of orange lamps set between each curtained partition. Immediately to their right rested a stocked mahogany liquor cabinet with a small bar, and further ahead beside the windows, a pair of elegant white-cushioned love-seats facing one another. A portly, grey-haired and middle-aged man bedecked in a dark suit sat upon the seat facing toward them, his head drooping over as if he were in a deep sleep.

"It's… really him?" Zell whispered anxiously.

"No guards here, either?" Selphie puzzled. "None of this makes sense."

 _There's got to be something we're missing._

Squall's eyes scanned over every inch of the cabin once more at lightning speed, checking the floors for tripwires, the walls for cameras, and the immediate vicinity surrounding Deling's slouched figure for any sign of movement. There was nothing, no disturbance to the regal carriage interior save for the still whipping gust of wind to their backs. The leader of a nation sat before them, completely unguarded and sound asleep in their midst. It was unthinkable.

"All clear?" Rinoa whispered into Squall's ear from his side. "I'd like to begin negotiations with him. Very _serious_ negotiations."

"Be careful," he warned her, as he stepped aside to allow her through. She passed by delicately, the tail of her duster sweater swaying gently as she strode down the length of the cabin, until she stood to the rear of the opposing love-seat facing the president's own.

"President Vinzer Deling!" she abruptly addressed him in a brash and accusatory tone. "You are currently a hostage of the Forest Owls. You have nowhere to run. Cooperate with us, and no harm will come to you."

Deling remained motionless upon his seat, his head bowed forward and unflinching in the face of the staunch declaration. The man appeared to have either not yet awakened, or be willfully ignorant of the outburst.

"President Deling!" she repeated once more, now clearly agitated. "Are you listening!?"

Still, the president's limp figure moved not a muscle.

"Do you think he's… dead?" Selphie spoke up. "Like, maybe he had a heart attack on the way?"

Rinoa shifted her footing to circle the elegant furniture, stepping into the gap between and leaning forward to inspect the immobile body of their hostage. Squall carefully inched his way forward as she did, his gunblade still held aloft before him as he darted his eyes all about. The president remained still as a corpse as Rinoa moved her head in to inspect, and placed a pair of her dainty polished fingers upon his neck to check for a pulse. Seconds passed in breathless anticipation, the heavy tension within the room having reached a fever pitch.

"Nothing," Rinoa spoke in disbelief as she turned her head back to the three SeeDs. "He really _is_ dead."

"Damn," Zell breathed. "So what now? Mission accomplished?"

"I…" she stammered, attempting to gather her thoughts, "I guess so. Looks like our whole plan ended up being for nothing, after all. All we can hope for now is that his successor isn't a tyrant. Let's just figure out how we're going to dispose of the - "

Rinoa's words were abruptly cut off by a sickening snapping noise immediately to her side. Squall shifted his focus back to the president's body to see his neck had twisted a perfect ninety degrees to the right, his lifeless eyes now trained directly on the young woman beside him. It was a truly eerie and discomforting sight to behold, Rinoa herself shrieking in shock as she turned her head to face the corpse and promptly fell backwards onto the crimson carpeted floor. The president's stare remained affixed to her figure, seeming to glow with an unnatural orange light not of this world. His mouth parted suddenly, from which erupted a monstrous and inhuman roar that shook the entire coach.

"Move!" Squall yelled as the feral re-animated Deling viciously leaped from his seat without warning.

Rinoa rolled sideways to evade the oncoming attack, as he landed with a massive thud upon the space she had just occupied, his fingers digging into the carpet as he tore up the fabric like a rabid beast. Squall raised his gunblade up high as the president leaped for him on all fours with a brutal growl, and pulled the trigger as he performed a downward slice. The weapon's miniature detonation resounded through the cabin, followed by a howl of agony as the president's severed left arm fell to the floor, the blood seeping onto the carpet rapidly and staining it with an even darker shade of crimson.

"What the hell is going on!?" Zell shouted from behind, as Rinoa shimmied her way along the carriage back to his side.

Deling continued to writhe in pain before them, his eyes still gleaming unnaturally as a ferocious hissing escaped his mouth. Squall prepared to raise his weapon over his shoulder for another strike, when he realized the president's physical features had suddenly begun to contort and twist into a foul mishmash of grey and red.

The hair upon his head withered and faded away, receding into an increasingly deformed and growing cranial structure. His musculature rapidly swelled, bursting at the seams of the dark suit and finally tearing it to shreds as a mass of bloody organs burst from the chest and stomach cavities, bloated and sagging limply across the front. From the stump where the left arm once resided, a tree-trunk sized appendage with spiked yellow tendrils promptly regenerated in its place, smashing the love-seats to splinters as the monster flailed its new limb. The aging man's wrinkled face was completely gone, now replaced by a wicked skull with gnashing razor-sharp teeth, and the same fiery eyes of pure evil. It took every ounce of Squall's fortitude not to vomit on the spot, in the face of what was undeniably the most disgusting abomination he had ever seen in his life.

" _Now_ I've fuckin' seen it all!" Zell reeled.

"I think I'm gonna hurl!" Rinoa agreed, backing her way up to the door as fast as her legs would allow.

"Hate to tell you this," Selphie quipped to her frantically. "But I think _it's_ about to!"

The disfigured creature opened wide its jagged maw, as a distinct squelching sound began to bubble up in its esophagus. As Squall stared on in awe, unable to pull his eyes away from the walking horror that had materialized in front of him, he could visibly make out the acidic fluid traveling up from the stomach through the exposed organs hanging bare. So utterly taken aback was he, that by the time the monster finally let loose its gurgling spew of bile, he realized he had completely neglected to form a protective barrier before him. He frantically rose his hand as the phlegm-like liquid flew toward him, desperately channeling his sphere's power as fast as he could manage. The bile at once exploded in mid flight as a shimmering purple force-field erected itself in front of him, reflecting off and splattering across the walls of the carriage. The acidic residue rapidly ate away at everything it touched, just as the malboro's had two days earlier. Squall turned back to face his comrades, knowing full well he had not been fast enough to conjure the barrier himself, to see Selphie holding her outstretched arm before her.

"Zell, Rinoa!" she addressed the two in a take-charge tone of voice. "You two decouple the car! Me and Squall will hold this thing off!"

"That'll take too long!" Zell insisted to her. "We don't have time to rappel down the side again."

"Then _break_ the connectors!" Squall snapped as he turned back to the deformed abomination, bringing his gunblade forward. "Just hurry!"

The two bolted out the door as commanded, leaving him and Selphie to fend for themselves. Squall charged forward, sinking his blade into the monstrosity's raised thick left arm and pulling the trigger. His eyes widened in alarm the very next moment, dumbfounded to find that even with the enhanced force of the slice, the blade had barely managed to sink halfway into the contorted mass of bulging flesh and veins. The monster shrieked in rage as it battered Squall away, sending him careening backwards into the frame of the mahogany bar. He grunted through gritted teeth upon the sharp impact, falling to his knee as the liquor cabinet behind fell in tandem, bringing with it innumerable crashes of shattered glass bottles within. He raised his blurred vision to see Selphie conjuring a massive ball of fire within her right palm, and instantly disregarded every ounce of pain screaming through his back.

 _Wind, lightning,_ and _fire!? How many does she know!?_

The blast shot forward, immolating the howling creature and triggering an incessant mechanical beeping as the carriage's on-board smoke detector sprung to life. Water at once began to pour down from the sprinklers set into the roof, slowly dousing the smoldering sack of flesh and organs as it flailed wildly. Selphie rushed to Squall's side, extending her open hand to him frantically as she tightly clutched her nunchaku in the other.

"Let's go!" she urged him as he took her hand and rose back to his feet.

The two sprinted through the metal doorway to find Zell standing with his legs spread over the gap between the two cars. He reached down through the divide, evidently utilizing the strength of his Guardian Force to attempt bending the spokes out of place, his face a mask of anguish and frustration. In the doorway to the Owls' train stood Rinoa propped against the interior wall, still visibly shaken and kept safe by the two young men to her front.

"What's taking so long!?" Squall demanded. "Just step aside!"

He forcibly shoved Zell out of the way to the opposite side, ignoring the blonde's agitated protests as he crossed over with Selphie and spun to face the president's car. He whipped his gunblade around into a reverse grip and dangled the blade above the gap with both hands, placing his left thumb against the trigger as he did so. He thrust downward with all of his might, shearing through the already weakened metallic spokes with ease as the monster lumbered to the door, roaring with bloodlust in its approach.

"What the hell is that!?" Grat blurted out upon laying eyes on it.

"Don't just stand there!" Squall shouted back to him. "Tell the driver to gun it!"

The young man obediently bolted away to the front of the locomotive, as the deformed creature cleared its head under the doorway to arrive before them on the fore of the car. The gap had begun to widen between them at an agonizingly slow rate, the creature roaring as it raised its gargantuan tendril to strike. The group were all tightly clustered together, with no room to dodge. Squall held his weapon outstretched horizontally to shield them as the monstrous blow came crashing down on him. His heels dug into the steel as he fought against the sheer strength of the pummeling, grunting as he was pushed to one knee.

 _Just a little longer!_

At that moment, a burst of shimmering white light shot past his head and collided with the monster's torso, forcing it back as it howled in fury. Squall lowered his gunblade and turned back to see Selphie with her hand outstretched and eyes trained forward, her expression one of absolute focus. A small, pale-green rabbit-like creature with a large ruby ingrained into its forehead sat atop her still dripping hair, buzzing with an innate energy which illuminated its entire body. The red gemstone quickly charged into a blindingly bright white, prompting Squall to cover his eyes with his arm in its immediate presence. Just then, he felt the ground beneath his feet jerk as the train sped up suddenly, swiftly establishing a far more manageable distance between them and the still reeling monster. He turned his eyes away as he clung for dear life to the locomotive's rear railing, and a massive blast of energy erupted from the tiny familiar. The white light soared across the divide and engulfed the red painted coach car, sending the entire carriage up a blaze of orange flame and shrapnel, and utterly obliterating the abominable undead creature in one fell swoop. Squall could do little but look on in amazement as the black smoke began billowing into the early morning sky, rendered completely at a loss for words for what he had just witnessed.

"Booyaka!" Selphie cheered, her Guardian Force fading away into an aura of ruby light as the smoldering wreckage in the distance rapidly faded from view. "Everyone okay?"

 _Holy!? Her element is_ holy _!?_

Squall had been taken aback upon having observed Selphie's effective utilization of the flotation-buffer technique in the midst of the field exam. He had been stunned by the ease with which she had managed to conjure three wildly different schools of spellcraft in the field. This however, was far beyond anything he had ever seen in his life. It had taken him no less than a full year of rigorous training to be able to summon forth and maintain his own Guardian Force, only for her to have just accomplished the same with seemingly no struggle at all right before his very eyes. Furthering his disbelief, to have learned that her creature's natural disposition was of the exceedingly rare holy element was nothing short of stupendous. It was a multifaceted element bearing powerful offensive and defensive properties alike, in addition to the unbelievable powers of rejuvenation if harnessed properly. More tremendous still was that because it did not run directly counter to the nature of any other school of spellcraft, it could potentially allow the wielder to effectively utilize every other form of elemental magic in turn without drawbacks. Of every SeeD currently enlisted in Balamb Garden, only Commandant Xu possessed another Guardian Force capable of holy spellcraft.

"That… was freakin' _awesome!_ " Zell cheered as the group filed back into the yellow locomotive and shut the door behind.

"Absolutely," Rinoa forced a smile, still visibly shaken from the terrifying ordeal they had all just barely survived. "Thanks, Selphie."

"Aw, it's nothing," the smiling girl beamed innocently. "Let's just be glad we all made it out in one piece."

 _Who is this girl, really?_

* * *

"So, it was a decoy all along," Zone grumbled from the head of the meeting room table, his own lowered in shame as he gazed over the diorama blankly.

"'Decoy' is one way of putting it," Zell spoke up from his seat by the opposite end. "More like a walking nightmare come to life. I'm gonna be seeing that thing in my dreams for weeks."

 _I'll trade you for the ones I've been having lately._

Squall could not fault Zone for his current state of disenchantment; their plan, while intrinsically flawed from the start, had been executed with perfect accuracy and timing, to speak nothing of sheer dumb luck. For all of their preparation and espionage to have come to nothing in the end surely had to be a crippling blow to his self-confidence, or at least what false bravado he could muster at any given moment by Squall's account. The rest of the Forest Owls contingent had been equally disheartened upon their return, particularly Watts for having learned that the information he had obtained had been planted. He had left the abandoned facility in silence a half-hour earlier to scour the streets for rumors, his face having shown little sign of the giddy energy or enthusiasm Squall had seen in him upon their first meeting by the Timber station.

"What even was that thing?" Rinoa asked from Zone's end of the table. "It definitely wasn't the usual kind of monster you just find out in the wild. It's like it was _designed_ to take the president's form. How does Galbadia have something like _that_ under their control?"

"Maybe..." Selphie started with a noticeable hint of hesitation to contribute. "Maybe... it was some kind of super gross-looking GF?"

"Impossible," Squall shot the idea down. "GFs are developed and produced exclusively for use by SeeD via the Garden's contract with Odine Industries."

"Yeah, but…" she paused, seeming unsure of what she wanted to say. "But, what if Galbadia found a way to make their own somehow?"

"Not a chance," Zell answered her cockily, bringing up his own sphere from his belt. "I've been trying for years to figure out just how these things tick, and what they're really made of. I even tried disassembling mine a couple years back to get a better look at the interior material. Didn't get far, though. Turns out the energy goes all haywire when you strip away too much of the protective casing."

"It knocked out all the electrical circuits in our wing of the dorms," Squall bluntly reminded him as he reflected on the aftermath of the incident. "We didn't have hot water for a whole week."

"You're still mad about that?" Zell raised his hands in mock defense as Selphie chuckled at the recounting, her cheery demeanor returning gradually. "Anyway, if it _were_ a GF, it would need someone to wield it, right? The creature can't stray too far from its power source."

"I'm not really following all this talk about 'GFs', or whatever," Rinoa jumped into the midst of the debating operatives. "But are you implying there's a rogue agent involved in this?

"He's saying if there were, they'd have to have been on the carriage as well," Squall explained. "Which begs the question of why they didn't show themselves once they'd sprung the trap, or at the very latest by the time we made our escape."

"None of this makes sense!" Selphie moaned, putting her hand to her head. "It can't be a GF, plain and simple. Can we please just forget I even brought this up?"

 _If there's one person here I'd suspect…_

"Agreed," Zone finally spoke again, balling his fist on the table in rage. "Whatever the case, it was all a setup, and we were stupid enough to take the bait."

"So, what do we do now?" Rinoa asked him, rising from her seat with determination. "I'm not about to just let this go. We've given too much for today's plan to end in failure. I say we-"

"Sir!"

Squall abruptly turned his head in tandem with everyone else in the room to the entrance leading back into the hangar. Watts stood in the open doorway, panting and perspiring as he stepped inside hurriedly.

"I've got new info!" he wheezed. "For real this time! The president is coming in by chopper at nine-o'-clock. He's en-route to the TV station, just like we heard."

"The TV station?" Squall shot to attention, the gears in his mind turning rapidly as the disjointed pieces slowly began to click into place.

"By chopper!?" Zell spluttered. "I thought aircraft haven't been used since the blackout started! Didn't the interference make standard navigation systems unusable?"

"They've implemented new, experimental navigation technology now," Zone explained, reaching down and pulling open a drawer beneath the table as Watts stumbled to his seat by Rinoa's side. "State-of-the-art, AI operated. It's the same program the military has started using for the guidance systems on their long-range ballistic missiles. It's all in here."

Zone promptly placed a dark-colored magazine upon the edge of the table, sliding it down the length parallel to the diorama into Zell's waiting gloved hand. He raised the thin journal before his face, inspecting the cover briefly before opening it. Selphie peered over his shoulder as his eyes quickly scanned over the pages. Squall trained his own from across the table, fixing his gaze to the bulky red text against the solid black background: _Anarchist Monthly, Vol. 4._

"This is an _actual_ publication!?" Selphie gasped as she took in the evidently striking contents.

" _Was_ ," Rinoa swiftly corrected her. "It only lasted four issues. Then the government stepped in and told Timber Maniacs they would be shut down if they didn't hand over the writer. He's locked up in the D-District Prison out west, now."

"With the kind of dirt that's in here, can't say I'm surprised," Zell spoke solemnly as he closed the magazine and set it back down on the table before him. "So much for freedom of the press, huh?"

"Not in this city," Rinoa quipped bitterly.

"You mentioned a TV station," Squall interjected, attempting to steer the conversation back onto more immediately pressing matters.

"Yeah," Zone affirmed. "We learned that it's the whole reason Deling's coming into the city in the first place. He's going to make some kind of broadcast, but what I don't get is why he needs to come all the way out here. Surely he can do it right from the capital?"

"I've read up about that station before," Zell spoke up, a hint of comprehension creeping into his voice. "It's one of the only ones left that hasn't completely gutted its wireless radio systems, right?"

 _Bulls-eye._

"Yeah, for all the good that's worth nowadays," Rinoa snarkily replied.

Zell's gaze turned to meet Squall's from across the table's width, the two sharing a glance of mutual understanding as the blonde youth raised his tattooed left eye in acknowledgment.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"Has to be," Squall agreed. "The timing's too close."

"What is?" Rinoa questioned impatiently, darting her eyes between the two of them. "If you know something, then spit it out!"

"I'm assuming you know all about the siege on Dollet two weeks ago?" Squall began, reflecting on the events of the field exam which already seemed long past. "We were on the ground there. We learned that Galbadia's objective was to seize the abandoned communication tower in the mountains and reactivate it. The ceasefire was only called on the condition that it remained up and running."

He deliberately elected to omit the details of how the three of them had very nearly shut the tower down themselves, and by extension sent the entire ceasefire up in flames. And of course, there was the matter of he and Seifer having essentially provided the same treatment to their former instructor's teaching career in the process, for which even now Zell seemed unwilling to let him live down. He was man enough to recognize the blame lay squarely on his hands, but unable to accept it had been the wrong choice in the heat of the moment. Every reminiscence filled him with an unsettling mental dissonance, tearing him between his duty as a soldier and his own ingrained code of ethics. It was an episode which he now wanted nothing more than to abolish from his memory, for it to remain buried in the depths of his subconscious for the rest of his days along with every lingering moment of weakness he had ever lived.

"I get it," Zone hummed as he pensively brought his hand to his goateed chin. "The station combined with a powerful enough transmitter… even with the interference, it could allow them to send off a short live broadcast, even to places without HD cabling installed."

"So he wants to send a message to the whole world?" Rinoa pondered. "It's gotta be something big, then. We need to get down there and figure out what's going on… or better yet, maybe we could hijack the broadcast for ourselves, and let the people know that Timber is still standing strong!"

"That's a brilliant idea, miss!" Watts broke his silence as he leaped out of his seat. "We could have the first radio wave broadcast in seventeen years be Timber's official declaration of independence!"

" _Before_ we get ahead of ourselves," Squall began firmly, attempting to drag the naive duo's heads back down from the clouds. "I'd like to have a look at the contract you have with our Garden."

"O-oh, sure thing!" Zone stammered at the deliberately ominous request, frantically rummaging through the table drawers once more. "D-do you want the full thing, or the short and sweet version?"

"I'm not following."

"Ah," Rinoa blushed in embarrassment. "Well, you see… when Cid had the official contract drafted up for me, I looked it over and could barely understand a word of it. Too much technical mumbo-jumbo and legalistic speak. So I asked him if he could give me a simpler rundown of all the important stuff, and he hand-wrote me a separate one to go along with it. So, which do you want?"

Squall's mind was beside itself at the girl's admission, wondering just what the Headmaster must have been thinking to have gone along with such an amateurish request. Anyone who did not possess the capability to understand, or otherwise could not be bothered to properly examine and comprehend the precise details of a professional contract had no business engaging the services of an organization such as SeeD. It left him to wonder just what Seifer could have said to the man to make him go along with it, or if perhaps it were indeed the onset of senility as Squall had come to suspect over the last year or so.

"The Headmaster's words will do," he replied.

"Here you go," Zone brought up a single sheet of office paper and rounded the table to Squall's position. Selphie and Zell followed his example around the opposite end, their faces appropriately piqued with curiosity.

"While you guys are talking things over," Rinoa told them, rising from her seat. "We'll start discussing the mission."

 _Depending on what this says, you might be carrying it out on your own._

Squall impatiently snatched the leaflet from Zone's outstretched hand, and the man scurried off into the corner of the sizable former office space with Rinoa and Watts. The three hunched down to their knees in a circle, beginning to whisper faintly to one another safely out of earshot of the three SeeDs.

"That's… a meeting?" Zell spoke in a hushed tone.

"I think that's the least of our worries," Squall told him, redirecting his gaze to the elegant font scrawled upon the paper, with the Headmaster's seal stamped at the bottom alongside his signature. "Let's just see what we've got here."

" _Dear Rinoa",_ the text read. _"I thank you for your vested and longstanding interest in hiring SeeD, and in light of the dire circumstances of Timber's occupation as you have informed me, I will ensure a small squad of hand-picked operatives will be dispatched to assist you in your plans. The deployment contract will last until the time Timber achieves its independence as a nation. Please make good use of each SeeD operative, and understand that as this contract is being conducted as a special exception, no replacements or additional support can be provided. I wish you all the best with your endeavors._

" _Sincerely, Cid Kramer, Balamb Garden Headmaster."_

"Until Timber achieves its independence!?" Zell nearly blew a gasket.

 _He really has gone senile._

"That is _so_ vague!" Selphie agreed. "It's like we're being hung out to dry."

"Hey!" Rinoa called from across the room, having risen back to her feet once more. "I thought you were paid professionals? No complaining! If you're done, let's head down to the TV station."

"I'll lead the way, miss!" Watts volunteered as he bolted up into a salute. "The city's crawling with guards, but if we take the backstreets, we should be able to get there without incident. You're coming too, right sir?"

"Ow!" Zone doubled over, clutching at his midriff. "My stomach's acting up again!"

 _Forget being trapped in a moron's body._ This _is what hell really is…_


	12. Chapter 10 - Succession of Witches

10

 **CHAPTER 10 – SUCCESSION OF WITCHES**

The trek to the city's downtown district had been a long and twisting journey rife with detours and deviations. Watts had led them on for the better part of an hour through winding back alleys and sparsely frequented side streets, tracing the route the SeeDs had taken upon their arrival back towards Timber's main hub. The bustle of the morning commute was in full effect, which coupled with the increased guard presence on the streets in preparation for Deling's arrival had brought traffic to a virtual standstill. Car horns blared and motors revved impatiently from beyond the network of narrow passages the group traversed, a cacophonous concerto set against the backdrop of the quaint, old-world architecture they slunk between. Soon enough, the rapid whipping of helicopter rotors entered the arrangement from afar, drawing nearer rapidly and prompting Squall to raise his eyes to the morning skies above.

"There he goes!" Rinoa moaned over the whir of the blades as a sleek black chopper passed overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun's glare upon them as it moved due east. "We've got to get moving!"

"Sorry, miss!" Watts apologized profusely, picking up the pace once more. "It's hard to make consistent headway with so many patrols out and about."

 _I'd bet our hijacking attempt didn't help with that._

Squall and Selphie both bore their gunblade and nunchaku respectively, the latter taking great pains to conceal the large red flail beneath the back of her yellow outfit. The former of the two possessed no such luxury, left only to hope that the solid black sheath would help the sword to better blend in with the sum of his dark attire. He had initially considered bringing along his duffel-bag by which to carry both weapons, only to realize the sort of attention a man heading in the direction of the TV station lugging around an unmarked bag would garner. Regardless, the twisting and turning route Watts guided them along had rendered such deliberation a moot point thus far. The irregularity with which they had run across the path of a patrol was laudable, save for a significant guard presence amassed in the station square outside the Timber-Balamb line, seemingly in the process of investigating an incident of some sort. It was to the point where Squall, much to his own surprise, genuinely found himself warming to the over-eager young man, who had at long last proven himself useful in some capacity. Irritating though he was, he knew the city streets inside and out for a fact.

The group at last drew to the end of an alley running along the back left-hand side of what appeared to be a large pub, taking cover behind a set of rusted and discarded steel barrels as they peered out into the large circular plaza ahead. To Squall's left side loomed the towering hexagonal figure of the TV station, its modernized steel exterior a clear discrepancy from the antiquated architectural norm which accounted for most of the rest of the city. Its color pallet was a sleek, gleaming blue and gold, not dissimilar from Balamb Garden's own, the multi-tiered building stretching up far above the meager domiciles and establishments which surrounded it. A small platoon of troops armed with rifles stood at attention before the large glass-paned entrance on the ground level, while upon the apex rested the crest of Timber, an elegant cursive T with a perfectly circular wooden wheel jutting into its right side. A massive television monitor was situated further below, the screen active and currently displaying little more than a mishmash of static interference and what appeared to be random alpha-numeric characters, as continual white noise spewed forth from the large dual speakers to either side.

"That's… kinda creepy," Rinoa muttered as she stared up at the swirling hodgepodge. "What the heck causes this, anyway?"

"No one really knows for sure," Zell told her. "Supposedly, it just started up out of nowhere one day, seventeen years ago, and hasn't stopped since. There is a theory, though… that maybe Esthar was testing some kind of advanced Electromagnetic Interference bomb that went haywire."

"You're talking about that huge crater up near the Vienne mountains, right?" Selphie jumped in unexpectedly. "My class at Trabia went on a field expedition out there a few years back. It's a total wasteland for miles in every direction, and swarming with monsters. There's literally no way to cross into Esthar from it."

"And unless they someday decide to re-open their borders, we're never going to get a straight answer," Zell confirmed. "Still, whatever it was, it must have been one hell of a weapon to make a blast that big. Really makes you wonder what's been going on over there."

 _Or why the conflict stopped in the first place._

"Let's keep our focus on the mission," Rinoa reminded the two. "So, how're we getting in?"

 _You're asking us? What was that chatting in a circle on the floor for?_

"Looks pretty tightly guarded, miss," Watts addressed her. "There's no way we'll be able to just storm in through the front like this. I'll circle around and check the rear."

At once, the young man turned tail and worked his way back along the alley's length, cutting a sharp turn down an adjoining intersection and disappearing from sight.

"We really can't just rush in, huh?" she sighed in disappointment, turning to face the three SeeDs. "I guess… we just wait? Maybe once Deling finishes, the guards'll leave with him, and then we can get in there and do _our_ broadcast. It might not make as big an impact, but it's better than nothing, right? I mean, there's no way we'd stand a chance if we took 'em head on, right?"

 _Who is this 'we'?_

Be it from the fore or aft, Squall recognized there was no possibility whatsoever that they would be able to sneak inside undetected with the president about to take the stage. Beyond the platoon positioned at the entrance, there were sure to be far more security forces lying in wait within the walls of the station itself. Even with the power of their Guardian Forces to fall back on, they would be severely outnumbered on all sides in a cramped indoor office environment, a disadvantage that would only be further exacerbated by having to provide protection for Rinoa. Deling would surely be evacuated long before they could manage to fight their way into the broadcasting studio, provided the miraculous stroke of fortune they would require to even get that far. Most worrying of all however, was the fact that the Owls' naive princess seemed to have no discernible plan of action, as if she had simply assumed that the presence of the three of them alone would magically make everything fall into place. Even the train hijacking plot, while doomed to fail from the very start, appeared to have had at least some semblance of planning put into it. A mercenary's role was to execute the orders given by his employer as instructed, but in the face of such gross incompetence, Squall's tolerance was rapidly reaching a boiling point.

"We'll fight your enemies based on your decision," Squall affirmed irritably, turning his gaze away in frustration. "You tell us to go, we go, even if it is a losing battle. That's our duty, after all."

"Well, doesn't _that_ sound like a winning attitude," Rinoa huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "It's your 'duty'? What an easy life it must be to just follow orders blindly, and never take a stand for something bigger than yourself."

"Call it what you want, but it doesn't change the facts. You hired SeeD, and we were sent to assist you with your mission. That's it. And frankly, I'm starting to wonder if there's any hope for your cause at all."

" _Excuse me!?"_ Rinoa gasped at the remark, her eyes widened in shock.

"Squall!" Selphie reeled, rushing over to his side and tugging the sleeve of jacket heatedly. "That was _so_ uncalled for!"

"If you have something to say, then just say it!" Rinoa demanded, her duster sweater whipping as she swiped her right arm before her in anger.

"Just forget it," Squall bluntly disengaged, abruptly jerking his own arm away from Selphie's prying grasp. "It's none of your business."

" _You_ started it. The least you can do is finish it. Tell me. This is an order… an order from your _client!_ "

* * *

" _This is an order from your_ captain _, Squall," Seifer snarled in self-righteousness. "Now do as you're told!"_

* * *

As his arch-rival's biting command echoed in his mind, it all at once suddenly made sense. When he had first learned of their relationship, Squall had been unable to comprehend what could have drawn these two seemingly diametrically opposed personalities together. Gradually, he had begun to take notice of the underlying similarities in their stubborn demeanor and apparent delusions of grandeur, but had yet to uncover the linchpin which held everything in place, until that very moment. They were both prone to unbridled arrogance at the very whiff of power, and possessed no qualms in using it to boss their subordinates around as they saw fit. Upon closer examination, it was in fact little surprise at all. They were practically perfect for one another, and together embodied everything Squall despised to his very core.

"Alright then," he grumbled irately, staring daggers into her fierce brown eyes. "Let me just ask this: how serious are you? Really? For a group with such big ambitions, it definitely doesn't show in your work ethic. That idiot you call a leader is a spineless coward, your informant doesn't even bother to check where he's getting his information from, and your plans are some of the most slapdash and poorly considered I've ever seen. The three of you plop down on the floor to discuss strategy and call it a 'meeting', and on top of it all, you can't seem to make a decision on your own without asking for our input. How do you think it feels for _us_ , to be working for an organization like this? We're laying down our lives to assist you, and here you are treating this like it's all a game!"

"Holy _crap_ , Squall," Zell broke in, leaping to his side. "Calm down, man. You're getting _way_ too heated."

Squall turned his head away from the awestruck young woman to meet Zell's face, the expression he wore pleading with him to be civil. To his side, Selphie stood in utter shock at his loss of composure.

"Don't start acting all innocent," he replied defiantly. "You two have been thinking the same thing the whole time. I'm just the one who finally decided to say something about it."

"So, tell me this," Rinoa finally spoke again, an audible tremor in her voice as she fought to get every word out. "Is being a cold-hearted, emotionless drone another one of those 'various skills' SeeDs have to learn? Because if that's the case, then I'm glad Seifer didn't make the cut."

"Wait," Zell started, clearly puzzled. "How do you know Sei-"

"As a matter of fact, it is," Squall abruptly cut him off. "It's called 'discipline', and like it or not it's something every soldier worth their merit needs to internalize."

A hush fell over the dank alleyway the four stood in, with nary a sound to break the deafening silence save for the omnipresent static still emanating from the adjoining plaza. Rinoa stood idly opposite the three, taken aback by his biting words, her gaze trained to the cobbled pavement below.

"'Discipline'…" she monotonously echoed. "That sounds just like…"

She trailed off, seeming lost in reflection for a moment before she raised her head up once again to meet Squall's stare, her face contorted in disgust.

"You know, maybe this was all just a big mistake," she sulked in frustration. "I thought everything would work out fine once we hired SeeD, that maybe we'd be able to finally make a difference to the people of this city, and show them hope for a brighter future. But, it looks like it's not that simple. I guess it really doesn't matter what army you serve, in the end it just comes down to following orders, all the same. It's not like you're one of us. I'm gonna go catch up with Watts, tell him we're calling everything off, and return to our base. Take your time coming back."

Rinoa shoved her way past the three SeeDs, Squall sidestepping to the back wall of the neighboring pub as she passed by and started towards the intersecting alleyway their informant had taken. She stopped abruptly upon reaching the crossing, and turned back to face them, her eyes now puffy and strained as she fought to hold back tears.

"You think this is all a game to us?" her voice quavered. "Well, it's not! Zone and Watts' dads started the Forest Owls when Galbadia invaded, and were publicly executed to set an example for the rest of the resistance factions after they were all driven underground. They've dedicated their entire lives to honor the sacrifices they made, for the dream they believed in until the very end! And as for me… well, I've got my own reasons for fighting, and I'll do whatever it takes to bring Galbadia down. So don't you _dare_ talk down to me, and try to say we're not serious. We are! We're so serious, it hurts..."

With not a word more, she bolted down the path and out of sight, leaving the three standing by themselves with their backs to the TV station plaza. Squall turned his head away with indifference, to find Selphie's fierce green eyes boring holes in his very figure.

"Well, aren't _you_ just a charmer!" she chastised him. "I hope you're _real_ proud of yourself."

"It needed to be said," he defended himself. "Her lack of foresight and planning was liable to get us all killed. It already nearly did this morning."

"There are nicer ways to put it, though! You almost made her cry!"

"I… didn't realize those guys had it so rough," Zell interjected, mumbling to no one in particular as he propped himself against the stone wall and stared at his red sneakers. "I never knew my dad, but I think I can kinda understand what they must have gone through. My grandpa passed a few years back, and I remember taking it really hard. He was always the guy I looked up to the most, the one who inspired me to give it my all and be the best I could be. He played a big role in the war before I was born, and always stood up for what he believed in. It was really sad, but he _was_ getting up there in age, so it wasn't a huge surprise. But… having your dad just ripped away from you like that when you're a kid… I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"You're telling me," Selphie agreed with a dour look, and joined him by the wall.

Squall strode in the opposite direction to the end of the alley, and turned his gaze back to the swirling interference-laden display high above, taking care to keep his figure hidden from the eyes of the guards outside the station. Regardless of the respective personal tragedies the Owls membership may have faced in their youths, it was no excuse for such sloppiness and unprofessionalism. If anything, it was a gross disservice to the cause their fathers had given their lives for. Squall had no family of his own, and had likewise grown up without any role model to inspire confidence in him or instill valuable life-lessons. And yet, in defiance of his unfortunate and lonesome upbringing, he had taken every step possible to achieve competence and self-reliance, so as to ensure he would never be rendered dependent of another's goodwill again. The past meant nothing to him now, and his only desire was to forget what little still lingered in the confines of his mind.

" _I WILL NEVER LET YOU FORGET ABOUT ME."_

Squall blinked his eyes in confusion, rapidly re-focusing them on the giant television monitor. He could have sworn he had just seen those very words flash before him, only to disappear into the sea of static as quickly as they had appeared. Moments later, the blurred lines began to dissipate, clearing the screen to slowly reveal the image of a speaking podium, adorned with no less than five microphones atop, and the gear-shaped crest of Galbadia set on the front. Two black flags bearing the same insignia stood pointed inwards on either side against the red and gold backdrop of the curtains to its rear. A middle-aged, blonde-headed announcer dressed in a flashy pinstripe suit stood behind the regal lectern, organizing a set of papers and placing them on its frame.

"Hello?" the emcee announced himself cheerily, the lingering traces of static distorting his voice slightly. "Hello? People of the world? Can you hear me? Can you see me?"

"It's finally starting?" Zell spoke up as he and Selphie ambled back over to Squall's position and crouched beside him. "Wonder what this is really all about."

"Oh, this is just incredible!" the announcer proclaimed, the image continually flickering between grainy and clear at regular intervals. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is _not_ a recording, but an actual live broadcast over the air! The first of its kind in seventeen years, no less! What a truly monumental occasion it is! We are coming to you live from Timber, with an important message to the world from life-long Galbadian President Vinzer Deling! And so, without further ado, let us hear from the man of the hour himself. Ladies and gentlemen of the world, President Deling!"

The giddy speaker quickly vacated the podium, as yet another middle-aged, dark-suited man strode onto the sound stage from the right to take his place. The stern, wrinkled face and greying head of hair were precisely as those of the demonic impostor aboard the train earlier that morning. His expensive black suit and white undershirt were accompanied by a solid blue necktie, cutting as sharp a figure as could be on what was otherwise a clearly quite portly man. He slowly strode up to the series of microphones, adjusted his collar, and began to speak.

"Greetings to you all," Deling began. "Be you in Galbadia or Timber, Dollet or Balamb, Trabia or even Esthar, this broadcast is being streamed across the globe on every common frequency in operation. I am Vinzer Deling, life-long president of Galbadia, and today I am here to make a humble proposition to the leaders of the world and their people. A call for unity and understanding, so that we may end all needless conflict and wars, for the purpose of existing together as one collective world body."

"No way," Zell incredulously dismissed the notion. "A peace proposal?"

"Man," Selphie sighed in relief. "Maybe the guy's not so bad after all?"

 _There's always a catch. And just who's going to be the one at the top of this new world order?_

"Under my administration, Galbadia has sought reunification with the western territories for the last twenty years," he went on. "But, that is merely the first step of many on the road towards this great goal for the good of all mankind. I would wish to meet with the leaders of the world's nations to discuss these matters in further detail. Unfortunately, even to this day there remain many trifling problems standing between Galbadia and-"

Deling suddenly cut himself off, shifting his vision from the camera to the ceiling of the studio, as if his attention had been drawn away by a disturbance of some sort. After several short moments of perturbed silence, he craned his neck back down and continued.

"Forgive me. As I was saying, it is regrettable that even now there remains discord between Galbadia and many other world powers, which has in the most extreme cases grown into violent insurrection, and as of this very morning, an attempt on my life. Rest assured, the insurgents' plot has been thoroughly thwarted, and the whereabouts of their hideout swiftly uncovered by our tracking specialists. The might of our military forces should be dealing with them as we speak."

"Wha-!?" Selphie yelped, Squall only just managing to cover her mouth with his black-gloved hand before she alerted the guards outside the station. It was unexpected news to be sure, but unsurprising in the face of the Owls' lackadaisical methodology.

"Rinoa is _not_ gonna be happy about this," Zell grimly opined.

"And I owe the foiling of this treachery in no small part to the ambassador I have come before you today to introduce," Deling continued. "Who will be my representative for the coming conference with the leaders of the world. As you are aware, seventeen years ago, Galbadia waged a bloody war with the eastern nation of Esthar, commanded by the wicked Sorceress Adel. And now, today, I am honored to formally announce our nation's own alliance with yet another sorceress."

 _You must be joking._

"And so, ladies and gentlemen of the world-"

Deling's speech was at once silenced by a loud screeching of metal, prompting him to agitatedly tilt his neck upward once more. His mouth shot open in shock as he backed away from the lectern quickly, practically wrapping himself in the curtains to his rear. A massive chunk of metal scaffolding suddenly crashed onto the stage with an earsplitting roar, the podium crushed into naught but splinters as the audio clipped over the speakers and the camera shook violently. Squall stared on in absolute horror, mouth agape as the dust settled and a flash of grey dropped from the ceiling, charging the tangled president and yanking him forcefully from the backdrop. The assailant spun Deling around quickly and pressed a striking ebony blade to the man's throat. Despite the lingering static interference which continued to blur and distort the fine details of the picture, Squall could easily recognize the signature design of the weapon, as well as the short, cropped blonde hair upon the head of its wielder.

"Seifer!?" Zell flipped, Squall far too stunned by the scene unfolding before their eyes to silence him.

"What's _he_ doing here!?" Selphie shrilled, as yet another figure leaped down from the rafters, landing upon the collapsed walkway and outstretching her arms in a halting gesture.

She was clad in a salmon-pink zip-up vest, and a matching skirt which ran down to her knees over top of a pair of black pants and boots. Her arms bore matching brown warmers and gloves, her right hand clutching a thick coiled metallic whip with a spiked tip at the end. All that was missing were the trademark silver-rimmed glasses atop her fair face, now contorted with agitation between the familiar flowing fringes of golden hair.

"Stay back!" she commanded the armed guards that began slowly stepping into the camera's lens.

"Instructor!?" Zell followed up, utterly bewildered. "What the hell is going on!?"

"For the last time, stay back!" she repeated herself frantically. "You're only going to provoke him!"

Seifer tugged at the captive president's shirt collar in the background, dragging him to the side of the stage with the Hyperion's blade still firmly pressed to his neck. The infantrymen's rifles tracked his every movement, anxiously waiting for the smallest opening to take the shot. Quistis whipped her attention to the camera and shouted into it with all her lungs had to offer.

"Timber team! If you're watching this, get over here right now! You _have_ permission! I need your help!"

"Squall?" Selphie racked his shoulder in a panic.

 _Damn it all._

Realizing there was no further recourse to be had, he quickly drew his gunblade from its sheath and rounded the alley corner into the plaza. He charged for the squadron of soldiers positioned at the entrance to the station, mesmerized as they stared up to watch the hostage situation unfold upon the giant screen.

"Coming through!" Zell roared as he slammed the ground with his fist, sending a tremor roaring forward through the cobbled earth just as Squall had witnessed not two weeks earlier. The platoon quickly spun around at the sound of the approaching rumble, and simultaneously yelped in alarm as the quake impacted, sending them flying in all directions. Not one of the three SeeDs slowed as they charged past the still falling debris and through the automatically parting glass doors, Selphie having withdrawn her bulky nunchaku from the back of her outfit.

"Where the hell's the studio?" Zell impatiently barked as he scanned the directory situated on the lobby wall.

"I'd say we just follow the guards wherever they're heading," Selphie suggested.

"Yeah, but I'd like to narrow it down to the floor, at least. Here we go! Main sound stage, third floor, room 301. Let's move!"

The squad bolted into the waiting elevator, Squall punching the button for the third level as soon as he stepped aboard, and then proceeding to jam the door-close button repeatedly until the lift finally responded in kind. As they rose, his mind raced at light-speed as he speculated as to what could have possibly transpired at the Garden in the two brief days they had been away. How had Seifer gotten to Timber? Why had he come? And why was he after the president?

 _Now that I think about it, those last two might not be so hard to guess._

"Shields up," he commanded.

Squall activated his sphere clipped to his belt, summoning a shimmering protective energy barrier before him as the elevator's indicator rang out with a ding, and the lift slowed to a halt on the third floor. Zell and Selphie mirrored his casting, as he brought his gunblade up before him in a battle-ready stance. The doors slowly parted, revealing a mass of blue uniforms lining the hallway before them. Squall wasted not a moment of their element of surprise, leaping from the lift and slicing down the nearest infantryman, not even bothering to pull the trigger. An uproar instantly shot to life in the hall, as Zell and Selphie moved in to subdue their own chosen targets.

Machine gun fire erupted at once, the bullets ricocheting harmlessly off of the magical barriers and impacting into the office walls and other soldiers alike. The group slashed, pummeled and beat their way through the collective of security forces, not letting up the onslaught even for a second as they pushed their way down the hall. After a few moments the clattering gunfire ceased, the remaining soldiers evidently having come to the realization that their firearms were having no effect at all. Several holstered their weapons and pulled sharp glaives from their sides, charging forward to meet their enemies for close-quarters combat. Squall expertly parried each and every one of their strikes, slicing through them one after another with deft precision and skill, until there remained not a soldier left standing in the narrow expanse before them. The floor beneath their feet now lay strewn with carnage, Squall's blade soaked brilliant crimson with the blood of many slaughtered men.

 _And still, it doesn't feel real…_

"Come on!" Zell urged him. "It should be just up ahead!"

Squall snapped out of his pondering and followed his squadmates down the blood-drenched hall, sidestepping fallen bodies and weapons alike. He procured his rag from his back pocket and quickly wiped away the gleaming vital fluid from his sword, the small cloth nearly proving insufficient for the sheer amount. He stowed it away once more as Zell burst through the double doors ahead, and the three emerged into a brilliantly lit sound stage. Cameras of all shapes and sizes dotted the floor, their connecting cables forming a web of wires strewn all across the wide expanse, their lenses without exception trained on the fallen piece of scaffolding which now occupied the space where the podium once resided. No less than ten armed guards stood amongst the machinery. The majority held their rifles still locked to Seifer and the captive Deling to the left-most rear corner of the stage, while two others instead trained their sights on Quistis to the middle-right. The maddened youth smirked fiendishly as his brilliant blue eyes met Squall's from across the divide, a look of contentment and foolish pride plastered on his scarred face.

"I _wondered_ who was making all that racket out there," he sneered defiantly, as a sub-set of the guards promptly trained their rifles to the newly arrived intruders.

"What do you think you're doing!?" Squall snapped. "Why are you getting involved in this!?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he retorted. "Doing my duty as a man, and making sure you three don't screw it all up! Her whole objective was to get this guy, right? So, what are you planning to do with him?"

 _You've already screwed things up more than we ever could._

"I get it!" Zell shot to attention, the guards twitching their fingers on the trigger ever so slightly at the sudden outburst. " _You're_ Rinoa's -"

"Shut your damn mouth, chicken-wuss!"

 _He's right, Zell. Just keep your mouth shut and don't say anything stupid._

"You really _are_ bat-shit, aren't you!?" he fired back. "You actually came all the way from the Garden just to-"

" _Shut up!"_ Squall exploded, his voice reverberating throughout the studio as Zell and Selphie reeled in shock. He met Quistis' worried stare upon the stage, her own expression of dread confirming he was not alone.

" _Garden_?" Deling chuckled with amusement from within Seifer's grasp. "I see… so, you're all from SeeD."

Zell's face instantly turned white as a sheet, the blatant faux-pas finally having registered to his over-eager mind. He had just unwittingly revealed their organization's involvement to the most powerful man in Galbadia, on live TV being broadcast for the entire world to see. In just one ill-conceived taunt, he had effectively destroyed their entire operation, the repercussions for which would be beyond anything Squall could even begin to imagine.

"Rest assured, should anything happen to me, the entire Galbadian military will reduce your precious Garden to little more than smoldering ash," Deling threatened with a sardonic smile, and twisted his head back to Seifer. "You may let go of me now."

"Nice going, chicken-wuss!" he chided Zell from the stage, only tightening his grip around the president's collar as he began slowly dragging him backstage. "You and your big mouth just blew everything!"

The spiked blonde-haired youth merely stood silent, his head bowed in guilt. Before him, numerous automatic safeties disengaged as the soldiers re-affixed their weapons to the retreating abductor.

"Take care of his friends!" Deling ordered his men as Seifer drew him off the stage and down an adjoining passage to the rear.

On command, the infantry spun back around and trained their rifles to the SeeDs. The wider scope of the room notwithstanding, Squall recognized that dealing with the collection of soldiers before them would in theory be no different than their previous confrontation in the hallway. All he, his teammates and Quistis need do was quickly conjure another series of protective barriers, and the threat that their firearms posed would cease to be a factor. It would have been another matter entirely had Rinoa tagged along with them, and been resultantly caught in the crossfire.

"Guys!" a familiar voice called out from the entrance behind them.

 _You've got to be kidding._

He tilted his head back momentarily to see Rinoa and Watts come charging through the doors, skidding to a halt and nearly tripping over the mess of wires the instant they caught sight of the standoff before them. The rifles clacked again as Squall returned his focus to the front, each soldier having shifted their aim to the oncoming duo. Their unexpected arrival on the scene only served to needlessly complicate what should have been a simple and straightforward altercation. His mind raced as he desperately sought a solution to their newfound predicament, when a faint emission of glistening energy peeked itself into the corner of his vision.

From atop the stage, Quistis' coiled metal whip rapidly took on a glow of vibrant sky blue, shimmering brightly and beginning to hiss subtly. Her eyelids were firmly shut in concentration, as she continued to pump more and more energy into the weapon with great haste. At last she opened them, and fiercely swiped the whip with a single powerful lash. As it traversed its horizontal arc from left to right, innumerable fist-sized chunks of ice materialized along its trajectory and flew in a scatter shot across the divide. The mighty conjured hailstorm slammed into the distracted infantrymen from behind, knocking them from their feet to land face-first upon the hard, wire-strewn concrete floor with a cacophony of agonized groans. Excess chucks smashed into the neighboring cameras and audio equipment spread about, utterly demolishing the technology and sending sparks flying from the freshly exposed circuitry.

"Come on!" she called to them from the stage, her whip resting limply by her side as the icy blue aura faded away. "Barricade the doors, and let's go!"

Squall complied at once, joining Zell by the side of the nearest wrecked camera and heaving it up in tandem. Rinoa and Watts shut the doors behind them and bolted across the expanse to assist, together with Selphie raising up another and moving it back to the entrance beside Squall and Zell's own.

"How'd you get in?" Squall quickly asked Rinoa as she and the others pushed their makeshift barrier into place.

"I circled around to the back, and ran into Watts," she explained quickly, as Zell and Selphie grabbed the sides of the desk the destroyed audio mixing console sat atop. "Apparently he bumped into Seifer, and told me he charged in through the side stairwell. He made pretty short work of the guards on the way, so we just followed the trail of bodies and wound up here. I… can't believe he actually came to help. Where is he?"

"Backstage with Deling," Zell grunted as he lowered the table. "We gotta get moving before he does something… well, even _more_ reckless."

The five spun around and bolted across the length of the studio, promptly regrouping with Quistis, and trotted backstage down a long dimly-lit hallway lined by many dressing rooms. All was silent save for the arrhythmic pounding of their boots upon the polished floor, until a faint argument soon came into Squall's earshot from a set of open double doors at the end of the hall.

"… no other option. The only thing killing me will do is guarantee the complete annihilation of your home, and everyone you hold dear."

"And who do you think I'd care enough about to miss? You don't know a damn thing about me, so don't press your luck!"

Squall led the way forward to the ajar entryway, rushing ahead at top speed toward the source of the commotion. He reached the door-frame in a matter of moments, readying himself to leap forward into the fray, when he was suddenly halted in mid motion and flung back by an unseen force. He collapsed onto his back on the hard linoleum, the rest of the group instantly stopping in their tracks to his rear.

"The hell?" Zell wondered aloud, circling around his prostrate figure and prodding the open doorway with his hand. "No way. It's like there's an invisible wall here!"

"Are you alright, sir?" Watts asked with concern, extending his hand before Squall's dazed vision.

He took hold of the young man's offered support and raised himself back to his feet, still aching from the inexplicable barrier he had collided with. Seifer stood with his hostage beyond the door-frame, positioned squarely in the middle of a dark, elegantly decorated dressing room swathed in long regal drapery on all sides. Illuminated only by a pair of candles upon the vanity table, his gaze rested on their reflections in the mirror, his wicked smirk unflinching as he continued to hold the gunblade to Deling's throat.

"How's this for a bitter end?" he sneered into the glass. "To be able to _see_ the life fade from your own eyes as your blood spills all over the floor?"

"Don't do it, Seifer!" Quistis pleaded with him from beyond the mysteriously impregnable divide. "The consequences will be disastrous!"

 _Already too late for that now._

"I thought I told you, I've had _enough_ of your nannying!" he snapped, turning to face the group of six. "This is _my_ story, _my_ dream, and I'm going to see it through no matter what it takes."

 _His dream…_

"What a poor, helpless little boy..."

The icy cold voice echoed through the dark dressing room and into the hall, its very timbre sending a shiver down Squall's spine. Seifer darted his head in every direction, straining his ears to uncover the source, when a distinct hissing arose to his rear. The grey-coated young man abruptly spun around with his captive to face the noise, as a shroud of dark mist began to congeal into being, growing in height and width rapidly. Squall's breath caught in his throat as he looked on, a feeling of dread unlike any he had ever experienced before sweeping over him in that very moment.

At last, a distinctly feminine figure emerged from the rapidly dissipating mist, shrouded in the eerie shadows of the candlelight. From what Squall could make out as he squinted against the darkness, her wardrobe consisted of a tight fitting, dark-violet dress, its collar and shoulders adorned with black feathers, and the upper half of her face concealed by a pointed, blood-red mask in the image of a hawk. She wore a headpiece decorated with all manner of strange effects, some of which appeared to be devilish horns jutting out at asymmetrical angles, and the rest of which Squall could not presently determine in the dimness of the room.

"Where _were_ you!?" Deling bellowed at the mysterious woman. "Dammit, never mind that now. Just get me out of this mess! Turn this brat into one of those _things_ like you did to my body double!"

"Who the hell are you?" Seifer growled menacingly, failing to acknowledge his hostage's outburst.

"Such a confused little boy, aren't you?" she taunted him again, taking a step forward.

"Stay back!" he roared, pressing the blade ever closer to Deling's neck as he backed the two of them closer to the doorway.

"You're standing idle at the crossroad between innocence and maturity," she continued, inching forward ever so slowly. "Torn between right and wrong, and unsure of which path will lead you to your true destiny. Looked down upon by those around you, and scorned for being different from the rest, for being the bothersome nail that sticks up. It's a feeling I know all too well… and so, I come to offer you a reprieve."

"I told you to _stay back!_ " Seifer barked. "Come any closer, and I swear I _will_ slit his throat, right here and now!"

"The boy in you is telling you to step forward," she spoke in a hushed tone, unceasing in her approach. "The man is telling you to back away. You just can't make up your mind, can you? You want to be saved from this predicament. It's perfectly fine to ask for help. You're only a little boy, after all."

"I am _not_ a boy!"

"So… you don't _want_ to be a boy anymore?"

She now stood directly before him, Seifer's tall figure combined with Deling's portly stature almost completely obscuring her from Squall's view through the door. He continued to observe the scene unfolding before him breathlessly, feeling his heart start to pound in his chest anxiously as the tension continued to build to its inevitable climax.

"Then come with me," she hissed malevolently. "Come with me to a place of no return. Bid farewell to your childhood, and become the man you were destined to be."

Her right arm finally protruded itself from behind the obstruction of the two men's bodies, the hawk-shaped mask clasped within her sheer black-gloved fingers. Seconds passed in dead silence, not a one among the six in the hall nor the three within the room uttering a single sound. For those few moments, the world seemed to stand completely still, until it was abruptly set back in motion by a sudden clank of metal upon linoleum. Seifer's gunblade fell from his grasp to the floor, his figure remaining immobile before Squall's eyes as the same dark mist sputtered into existence once more and began to envelop him. It quickly swirled and thickened, until it blocked out any sight of the room's already shadowy interior. Slowly, it returned into focus as the mist faded away, void of any trace of life. Seifer, Deling and the woman were gone, along with the fallen ebony gunblade.

"T-that..." Zell stammered from behind, seemingly at a complete loss for words. "That... didn't actually happen... did it?"

Squall turned to glance between the matching looks of bewilderment upon each of the five in his presence, all of them speaking louder than any verbal affirmation. He had felt the screaming adrenaline of battle upon the shores of Dollet. He had felt unnerved in the aftermath at the prospect of having taken human lives with such ease. He had felt dread and agitation in the midst of the foolishly conceived train hijacking, and felt disgust and desperation as they had fended off the hideous presidential body double. But now, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt true fear.

 _It couldn't have been real. Those are just old fairy-tales… aren't they?_


	13. Chapter 11 - A Matter of Honor

11

 **CHAPTER 11 – A MATTER OF HONOR**

"Thank you so much for helping us, Miss Agnes," the girl named Rinoa addressed their gracious host, as the heavy-set, elderly woman quickly locked the door behind them. She wore a simple brown throw-over dress with a white apron atop, her greying hair tied up in a green bandana above her weary and creased face.

"Of course, hun," she modestly acknowledged the kind praise. "It's the least I can do after… well, I'm sorry to hear what happened to your base."

"Yeah," the young woman outfitted in blue sighed heavily, her expression one of tremendous guilt. "Watts went off to search the streets for any survivors. I hope they all managed to get away…"

Quistis swept her gaze across the intimate interior of the small, two-level town home, taking in the cozy if slightly cramped ambiance of their humble lodgings. The main level consisted of one single, multi-purpose room, a large circular wooden table set in the center atop the muted green carpeting, a matching sofa and an outdated TV displaying breaking news coverage from Deling City set in the bottom right corner. The kitchen space stretched around the northeastern perimeter, consisting of a small built-in gas stove with a kettle, a refrigerator and a dishwasher-sink combo, above which dangled numerous iron culinary appliances. A single window with the blinds drawn shut took up the western wall, beside an old-fashioned heater and a single flight of wooden stairs leading up to the second floor. It was a modest abode, if far too small to comfortably accommodate the five of them, in addition to Agnes herself and her mid-twenties daughter by the stove.

"It'll be okay," the young brown-haired woman assured her, opening the nearby cupboard to retrieve a set of dainty tea cups from its confines. "Your group's always been good at making a quick getaway, right? I'm sure they'll be fine. Here, have some tea, and make yourselves at home for the time being."

She gently placed the porcelain cups upon the table, motioning for the five to take their seats before swiveling back to the kettle. Squall dragged out the first wooden chair and sat himself upon its rickety frame, Quistis following suit in tandem with Selphie and Zell immediately after. Rinoa continued to stare blankly at the table's bare surface, lost in contemplation and reflection as the daughter rounded the table with the kettle and began pouring.

"Thanks, Colette," she muttered as she finally took her seat, and cradled the steaming cup between her slender fingers.

The group's escape from the TV station had surprisingly gone off without any complications. The six had made use of the sound stage's rear emergency exit and fire escape to return to street level, as Galbadian reinforcements stormed the building from the front, unaware that the president was already long gone. From the outdoor metal landing they had emerged onto, they could see a billowing pillar of black smoke far in the distance, soaring high into the skies from the city industrial sector on the outskirts. The stunned and disheartened looks the girl and her fellow resistance operative wore had been more than sufficient to cue Quistis in on the omen's severity and pertinence. As the news anchors on the TV continued to discuss the ramifications of the hostage situation, interspersed with replayed footage from the incident every so often, she could only silently pray that she would not be forced to see Balamb Garden meet the same fate before the day's end.

She had spent the better part of their hurried trek through the streets attempting to contextually piece together the scenario she had stumbled into, her mind still fatigued and sleep deprived from the nightlong pursuit across the sea. Try as she might however, nothing could make sense of the fate that had befallen Seifer right before her eyes. Only slightly less peculiar was the girl in blue herself, who Quistis had immediately recognized from her waltz with Squall the night of the SeeD inauguration ball. Given what she had learned over the last two days, she realized it could be no coincidence.

"So, you guys are kinda like an open secret around town?" Selphie asked Rinoa, taking a sip from her tea.

"You could say that," she answered. "As far as the other factions go, at least. Miss Agnes here is actually the leader of the Forest Foxes."

"Seriously!?" Zell nearly spat his own drink upon the table at the revelation.

"You bet your hide, spiky," the elderly woman quipped with a noticeable spunk in her voice from the small sofa. "There're more resistance groups in this town than you can imagine, still dormant after the invasion twenty years ago. Rinoa's is the only one that's been really active nowadays, though."

"Why's that?" Selphie asked her innocently. "If there are so many factions, why not all band together and stick it to Galbadia as one big super resistance?"

"You think we didn't try that back in the day, sweetie?" she replied, her eyes unmoving from the news coverage of the incident. "The army's just too much to handle. And besides, after all this time, a lotta us have just got different priorities in our lives. Colette's little ones, my grandkids mean everything to me, and we're trying to bring them up as best we can without painting a target on our backs."

"Guess we haven't been helping much with that today," Squall flatly cut in.

"It's definitely something we could do without," Colette acknowledged solemnly from by the window, peeking her eyes through the drapes briefly. "But we know Rinoa's got her heart in the right place, and we always look out for our own whenever someone needs it."

"I'm so sorry," Rinoa glumly apologized, her mussed dark hair drooping over the steam rising from her teacup. "And that goes for everyone here. If it weren't for me, then… he wouldn't have…"

Quistis took a sip to calm her own nerves, realizing her intuition must have been on the mark. The girl's presence at the inauguration ball and the events of the last twenty-four hours were all the proof she needed to validate her suspicions.

' _Only one woman,' he says… but why does he think I'm trying to be like her?_

"What I really wanna know is just how Seifer got here in the first place," Zell inquired, shooting Quistis a glance from across the table. "Instructor?"

"You're not supposed to call me that anymore, Zell," she reminded him, the very mention of her former title sending a pang of regret through her stomach. It was a wound still very much on the mend, to speak nothing of her explosive falling out with the newly appointed squad leader seated at the table with them.

"You're always gonna be 'Instructor Trepe' to me", he smiled back. "It's who you really are, whether the higher-ups wanna acknowledge it or not."

It took all she had not to blush at the words of encouragement, reminded of just how reliable and genuinely selfless the hotheaded blonde truly was. It had been he who had patiently listened to her woes in her time of need, and offered vital reassurance in her own abilities when she had given into the dark specter of self-doubt. Even now, entangled in the midst of such dire circumstances, and with the fate of their Garden hanging in the balance, it was enough to give her the strength to recount the harrowing events of the last day to them all.

"It was around noon yesterday," she began, her exhausted mental faculties straining even to recall such a short passage of time. "I was just taking a stroll about the campus to clear my mind, and you can probably guess who I found helping with the grounds-keeping…"

* * *

Quistis emerged from the side entrance of the Garden dormitories, setting foot upon the small descending staircase into the semi-circular inner courtyard flanked by the cafeteria on the opposite end. So close to midday, the routine influx of students gathering for lunchtime was apparent from across the divide, many having spilled out into the expanse to engage in post-meal recreation, while others had elected to dine alfresco at the small cluster of picnic tables. The curving cobbled walkway leading to the cafeteria was lined on either side by luscious greenery and now-extinguished lamp posts. The climate was mild, having finally shaken off the last dregs of the long winter chill, with nary a cloud in the sky to obstruct the warmth of the sun's glare. It was a perfectly picturesque day, its serenity washing over Quistis with the gentle breeze, and for a moment allowing her to put aside the hardships of the last week.

Since the unceremonious revocation of her instructor's license, she had likewise been forced to vacate her private faculty quarters on the seventeenth floor for relocation back to the SeeD wing of the dorms. As it had only been a mere six months since her promotion, her original room she had been given following her own graduation had yet to be assigned to another tenant. She was for all intents and purposes right back to square one, all her progress and accomplishments over the past year effectively erased overnight. It still weighed heavily on her heart, as did Squall's hostile response to her the night of the ball. She had mired in her misery for much of the last week, and was at last ready to try making amends with him.

"You call that an even cut!?"

The shrill chiding broke her from her trance, drawing her attention to a nearby patch of shrubbery lining the walkway. Commandant Xu stood by its side, arms crossed in disapproval as she stared daggers upon a young man with hedge clippers trimming away at the brush. Quistis nearly had to perform a double take upon seeing his face; outfitted in a brilliant green gardener's smock and gray landscaper's hat, and absent his signature grey jacket, she had barely recognized him.

"I'm not finished with it yet!" Seifer shot back, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'm going to touch it up once I'm done taking off the top."

"You've already practically mutilated the poor thing!" Xu raged at him. "Keep doing a half-assed job like this, and I'll _triple_ your training! Got it?"

"Apologies, _ma'am_ ," he spoke through gritted teeth, his grip on the shears tightening in frustration. "I must have been absent when we covered this in class."

"Don't get snippy!"

"But you'd better get _snipping_!" Quistis chimed in, bringing her hand up to her mouth and chuckling to herself as the two swiveled their eyes to meet her.

Seifer's face bore a piercing glare of sheer fury and resentment, Xu's an awkward and embarrassed grimace. Quistis regretted nothing; the jab, however cringe-inducing, had been there for the taking.

"Glad to see _you're_ back in good spirits," the commandant finally addressed her, the belligerent blonde returning to work with a grunt. "I take it you're now fully moved back in? Any issues?"

"No, none," Quistis responded, quickly reverting to her professional demeanor. "I appreciated the assistance from the moving staff, though I kind of feel sorry for them. Having to take everything back out after they already moved it up not even a year ago must be a real chore."

"Don't," Xu insisted. "It's their job. They do it every year for the incoming graduates."

"I suppose so," she sighed. "Speaking of which, you haven't seen Squall around, have you? I was just asking around the dorms for his new room. I was hoping to speak with him about something, but he wasn't there."

"Leonhart? He was just sent out on his first mission yesterday evening, with Dincht and Tilmitt no less."

"Oh," Quistis responded, slightly crestfallen at having just missed her window of opportunity. "Well, good for him, I suppose. Do we have any estimate on when they'll be back?"

"Not anytime soon, I'd say," she scoffed. "I looked over the paperwork a few days ago, and couldn't believe the headmaster actually gave the go-ahead for this one. They were sent off to Timber last night, to support some skimpy resistance group."

"Are you _shitting_ me!?" Seifer instantly bolted to his feet, the hedge clippers falling from his careless grasp as he reached up and ripped the landscaping hat from his head of short blonde hair. "All they're going to dispatch are three complete rookies!? And one of 'em's the chicken-wuss!? They might end up fightin' the whole Galbadian army!"

"And just how would _you_ know the details of their mission?" Xu interrogated him, as Quistis slowly backed away from the confrontation brewing in the midst of the courtyard.

"Because _I'm_ the one who convinced Cid to take it in the first place!" he roared. "I've got someone important to me in that resistance group, and those three alone are not gonna cut it for what they've got planned!"

"That's not our concern. The payment being as small as it was, they should consider themselves fortunate to have gotten any assistance at all. It never ceases to amaze me, though… why the headmaster continues to give you any consideration whatsoever is beyond me."

"So, the only thing that matters to you is how much money you can squeeze out of everyone?" Seifer spat, his expression showing clear disgust and revulsion at the prospect. "What happened to standing up for a cause? Or being a force for change? Don't you have any sense of honor at all!?"

"That's the reality of working for a mercenary organization," Xu reminded him emotionlessly. "If you don't like it, you're welcome to drop out at any time. Now, quit complaining and get back to work!"

Quistis looked on with unease as a vicious electricity hung between the two, their glares not breaking from one another for several moments more. She did not know the details of the contract, nor the specifics of what kind of service Squall and his comrades would be pressed into, but understood it was not her place, nor anyone else's to argue with the decisions made by the headmaster. At last, Seifer returned the hat to his head, hunched to his knees once more, scooped up the hedge clippers by their thick wooden handles, and returned to his ordained punishment in barely restrained fury. Satisfied, Xu began stepping away in the opposite direction, turning her gaze back to Quistis and gesturing for her to follow along the cobbled stretch of the grounds. She complied hastily, striding alongside her superior for several yards in the direction of the cafeteria, until the two were comfortably out of Seifer's earshot.

"After dinner, he's supposed to be helping out with the Garden Festival committee in the quad," Xu finally spoke in a hushed tone. "There's an emergency meeting being called tonight by the administration, some kind of joint venture between us and Galbadia Garden. Whatever it is, it's big, and I can't get out of it. I want you to check up on him in my stead, and make sure he doesn't get any ideas. I didn't realize he had connections to that group, otherwise I wouldn't have said anything. That was my mistake."

"Do you really think he'd-" Quistis began, before suddenly halting herself at having realized the obvious answer to such a tone-deaf question. The commandant's raised eyebrow before her was indication enough that her mouth had clearly been moving faster than her mind, if only for a moment.

"Understood."

* * *

"I assume that 'someone important' must have been you?" she asked Rinoa, peering across the table at the young girl through the fading wisps of steam from their beverages. The girl in blue blushed slightly, lowering her gaze back to the cup in embarrassment.

"I… I wrote to him about a lot of our plans," she responded faintly. "Ever since we met, he's always been really supportive and passionate about what we've been fighting for. He helped get me into the Garden to meet with Cid in the first place, and practically begged him to have the contract approved. I could tell it was really important to him, too. He just wanted to help us take back this city. So, please… whatever happens after all this… don't think too badly of him."

Quistis remained unconvinced that the hotheaded hellion's interests were as selfless as the picture the girl had verbally painted of him, nor that they were focused solely on the success of the mission itself. She opened her mouth to respond, when a sudden rap at the door instantly swayed the attention of every occupant in the room.

"City patrol!" a muffled voice from the other side announced itself. "Open up!"

"You just hold on one minute!" Agnes bellowed grouchily as she slowly hefted her elderly figure from the sofa, clearly taking her time. "And keep your voice down! I have two small children in here, so don't you do anything to frighten them!"

"Upstairs!" Colette frantically whispered to the five at the table, her face at once wrought with anxiety. "Hurry!"

Taking care to minimize any potential noise as she scooted the chair back upon the carpet, Quistis quickly returned to her feet with the others, pushed the seat back in, and carefully rounded the table to the staircase leading to the second level of the house. Colette hastily gathered up three of the five teacups, dumping the contents in the sink and storing the evidence in the dishwasher. Selphie bounded up the stairs first, her petite figure creating virtually no audible disturbance as she did so, followed by Rinoa and Quistis herself. Zell and Squall climbed at a more deliberate pace, putting far more care into each step to minimize any potential creaking of the hardwood. After a span of about fifteen seconds, the entire group finally touched down on the second landing, taking an immediate right into a sparsely decorated bedroom as Quistis heard the front door below open at last.

The floor was comprised of the same wooden paneling as the stairs and adjacent hallway, with a large circular rug in the center to the side of the meager, twin-sized bed. A small wooden dressing commode and a set of drawers adorned the opposite wall, the space between taken up by a smaller window than the one on the lower level, the drapery pulled shut all the same. Zell gingerly closed the door behind them, as Quistis and the remaining three gently maneuvered themselves into a cross-legged sitting position around the rug's circumference. Agnes' agitated conversing with the Galbadian patrol below began to fade away gradually, moving out of the house proper and onto the front exterior of the property. A hurried set of footsteps bolted up the stairs to their rear, the bedroom door creaking open slightly as Colette peeked her head through a beat later.

"I'll come tell you when the coast is clear," she quietly assured them. "For now, just try not to move around too much."

"Will she be okay?" Rinoa whispered with concern.

"Absolutely," Colette smiled faintly. "My mom's a tough old bird. The legend goes that back in the day, she took down many a soldier armed only with her strength, cooking and beauty."

"The beauty part sure makes it _sound_ like a legend," Selphie muttered under her breath, Quistis just barely managing to catch the remark as their host dipped her head back out into the corridor and shut the door again, swiftly making her way back down the stairs shortly after.

"Man," Zell moaned in a hushed voice. "For a moment there, I thought we were screwed."

"Tell me about it," Selphie quietly agreed. "So… uh, Miss Trepe, I guess? Sorry, is it weird to call you that?"

"No need to stand on formalities, Selphie," she embarrassingly smiled back. "Especially in this kind of situation. Just Quistis is fine."

"What about 'Quisty', then? That sounds a lot more fun!"

She grimaced at the childish nickname, recalling the innumerable amount of times Seifer had made use of it to deride her in passing.

"Just Quistis is fine," she repeated, far more firmly.

"Okay, okay," she waved her hand in acknowledgment. "But anyway, what happened next? I introduced Seifer to the festival committee at last week's meeting, and everything seemed to be going really well. We drafted up the blueprints for the stage setup, and were just about to get started piecing it all together. You mean to tell me he just didn't show up?"

"More or less," Quistis reminisced. "Though for what it's worth, he did at the very least provide them with a couple of stand-ins…"

* * *

As opposed to the grand ballroom, which was specifically reserved for professional affairs organized by the administration, Balamb Garden's main quad to the west end served as the primary hub for extracurricular events and performances, not least of which was the annual Garden Festival. It was a wide and elegantly flourished open-air expanse, currently occupied by a giant steel-framed stage in the midst of ongoing construction. Cadets and SeeDs alike swarmed about its perimeter, many hauling all manner of sound and lighting equipment to their designated positions. Others proceeded to set up the control consoles far away from the front of the stage, a plethora of entwined connecting cables circling around the outside to the rear. Even from her elevated viewpoint atop the chiseled stone staircase leading back to the Garden's main atrium, it would be no mean feat for Quistis to pick out her charge in the midst of it all.

She descended the steps at her own pace, sweeping her gaze every which way in observance of the ongoing commotion. Noticing a familiar face by the newly erected audio mixer, she weaved her way through the small sea of students over to the young woman clad in her cadet uniform, her dark hair tied up in a ponytail. The girl turned her head as Quistis approached, and upon meeting her gaze, instantly lit up with a smile.

"Instructor!" she beamed.

"Not anymore, Lindsay," Quistis reminded her out of obligation.

As much as she wished she could informally keep the title among her closest students, it simply was not professional, and could easily be misconstrued as impersonation by the higher-ups. For a member of the 'Trepies' however, the unofficial fan club that a small contingent of students had formed around their admiration for Quistis, it was no doubt a struggle to now disassociate their idol from a position of authority. Although she had been aware of their existence for quite some time now, and by extension the strange cult of personality that had developed around her, it was not something she encouraged or even cared to acknowledge publicly. Despite this, she had tried her best to remain on friendly terms with several of the members, Lindsay being chief among them.

"I know," the girl sighed in disappointment. "But that's how we've all come to know you. It's just not right."

"It hasn't been an easy hurdle to get over," Quistis admitted. "But I know in the long run, it'll just be a small setback on the road to better things. Anyway, have you seen Seifer? He's supposed to be assisting with setting up."

"Oh, yeah," the girl blushed. "His two friends came in and said he couldn't make it. They're helping out in his place."

" _What!?_ "

Quistis' heart leapt into her throat as she spun around, quickly scanning over the entire swathe of students at lightspeed for any trace of the two. Within seconds, she caught a glimpse of brilliant silver hair beside a tall mass of tanned muscles to the right side of the stage.

"Is something wrong?" Lindsay asked innocently to her rear.

"Sorry," Quistis abruptly apologized, taking off at a hurried trot across the divide. "We'll catch up later!"

She deftly careened around passing students on her way across the expanse, barely slowing her pace as she drew closer to Raijin's bulky figure. The muscular young man carried a sizable stage monitor over his shoulder, Fujin to his side keeping the attached wires from dragging along the ground. Both appeared blissfully unaware of, or otherwise entirely complicit in the gross insubordination they were in the process of abetting.

"You two!" she called out as she cleared the last remaining obstructive bystanders to arrive before them, both stopping in their tracks as they turned their heads to her. "What are you doing here? Where's Seifer?"

"He told us to take his shift here, y'know?" the hulking young man obliviously stated. "Think he was going to get a mop, or somethin'."

"Moron," Fujin quietly spoke, averting her single eye from Quistis' look of horror.

"What?" Raijin turned back to his friend in confusion. "Didn't he say he had a mess to go clean up?"

"Moron!" Fujin exploded at him with an abrupt kick to the shin.

As the tanned giant grunted in what was surely little more than mild discomfort for one of his stature, Quistis immediately spun on her heel and practically sprinted back to the staircase she had descended, taking the steps two at a time as she raced back to the main atrium.

 _That reckless idiot is going to be the death of me!_

* * *

"There was no time to wait for the administration to adjourn their meeting," she explained. "Every second wasted would only put him further out of reach, and increase the risk of him jeopardizing your entire mission. I took out a car from the garage and raced into town as fast as I could, but by the time I got there, the intercontinental line had already left with him on board. So, I commandeered an assault boat, and piloted it across the sea all night, down under the west end of the Horizon Bridge, around the cape, and anchored it in a small cove off the shore to the south of the city. Needless to say, I've been awake for well over twenty-four hours at this point, and I'm pretty sure the adrenaline of it all is the only thing still keeping me awake."

The enraptured audience of four remained silent all around her, the expressions they wore each telling a story all their own. Among them were a wide-eyed and inquisitive stare from Selphie, a concerned look of dread courtesy of Rinoa, Zell's face of utter disbelief, and a completely blank stare from Squall, appearing lost in his own thoughts as his eyes remained unmoving from the carpet beneath them. Not one dared utter a word as Quistis continued her account.

"I made my way on foot to the city entrance before the break of dawn. They only had a couple of guards keeping watch for the night shift, nothing a little sleep spell couldn't take care of. I have to admit, I actually felt a little envious of them. I snuck in, worked my way to the station, and waited for the train to arrive…"

* * *

The brakes of the intercontinental express screeched and ground to a halt as it pulled into the open-air terminal, rousing Quistis from her dazed and exhausted slump against the concrete wall opposite the tracks. The first traces of sunlight lit up the early morning sky, breaking the all encompassing swathe of darkness she had navigated all night to arrive at that very spot. The cost of the trip had been three-thousand gil to purchase a ticket into the station, an entire night's sleep, and what little peace of mind she had managed to retain in the last week. Her brain fried and her stomach empty from the ceaseless journey, she was kept functioning only by the threat she knew Seifer posed to Squall's mission, and her firm determination not to disappoint the commandant a second time. Numerous baggage-laden pedestrians milled about the platform's length before her, parting to either side as the train at last came to a stop and the doors opened. The stream of freshly arrived travelers at once spilled forth from each car along the stretch, Quistis' eyes rapidly scanning the emerging masses from her waiting position by the turnstiles.

It was not long before the familiar grey coat came into view, the young man wearing it appearing as aloof as she had ever seen him. He sidestepped through the crowd with purpose, inching his way forward as she moved from the wall to intercept him, her hand engaging the sphere clipped to the right side of her belt as a precaution. The gathering of pedestrians quickly began to disperse, those bound for Balamb piling into the carriages while the new arrivals formed a long line to the security checkpoint. Quistis maneuvered herself around the tail end of the queue and defiantly stepped into the path of the oncoming blonde, fashioning as stern an expression as she could conjure in her sleep-deprived state of mind. Seifer stopped in his tracks upon meeting her stare, his eyes momentarily widening in surprise, before that same derisive smirk overtook his features like clockwork.

"It _would_ be you of all people they'd send, wouldn't it?" he addressed her nonchalantly over the bustle of the passersby. "Or did you volunteer to be the one? Neither would surprise me."

"I came of my own accord," she spoke bluntly. "The administration doesn't even know anything about this yet, so I suggest that you get back on that train quietly, and pray that they don't have you expelled once we return."

"Interesting," he mused wickedly, evidently unfazed by her threat. "So, what you mean to tell me, is that you've _abandoned your post_ and taken matters into your own hands, just to carry out what you think is the best course of action. My, doesn't _that_ sound familiar. 'Do as I say, not as I do', am I right?"

"What are you hoping to accomplish here?" Quistis impatiently changed the subject. She did not have a response prepared for the allusion Seifer had posited, and understood that she would be wasting time attempting to argue with him on such a subject.

"What do you think?" he scoffed. "It's a matter of honor, and loyalty, to keep my promises and prove my mettle to the people who depend on me. To help them carry out their cause no matter what the cost, and take a stand for something I believe in. That's why I'm here."

" _Honor_?" Quistis repeated in condescension. "I think you're just a selfish egomaniac who holds himself in too high regard."

"It's the truth," Seifer firmly insisted, raising his pointed index finger to her figure. "And what about you? Why would you take it on yourself to travel all this way just to stop me? Why not leave it to someone else for a change? That's what I want to know. Why does it always have to be _you_?"

"Your meddling is only liable to ruin all of Squall's team's plans," she defended herself. "It's my duty as a professional and your superior to make sure you don't interfere with official SeeD business. Nothing more and nothing less."

"That's a load of crap, and you know it!"

He swiftly thrust his arm into his jacket and withdrew his gunblade at frightening speed, holding it parallel to the ground pointed directly before her.

"Do I _look_ that naive to you? You think I haven't noticed? The way you've always propped yourself up around me and Squall with that irritating, holier-than-thou attitude for as long as we've been at the Garden? Loving caretaker one moment, scolding nanny the next, day in and day out even when we're the same age! It's disgusting, and frankly insulting. That you have the _gall_ to talk down to me like a misbehaving child, when you're nothing but the most transparent imitation imaginable. There's only one woman who has the right to speak to me like that, and you'll never be her, no matter how desperately you wish you could be."

Seifer's enraged declaration rang out in the space between them, Quistis utterly taken aback at his stinging words as a circle of onlookers began to form around the confrontation. Hushed murmuring met her ears, the sight of the withdrawn weapon still pointed to her chest the clear cause for the surrounding unease. She understood there would no longer be any way to resolve the situation without causing a scene.

"I'm sure it's the same for Squall," the menacing young man doubled down with a smirk. "We're both grown men, capable of looking out for ourselves without your constant nannying. And you wonder why you lost your license."

"I…" she started, an intense fury unlike any she had ever felt beginning to boil up from the very depths of her soul. She lowered her gaze to the station platform below, gripping the handle of her whip coiled up through the side of her belt tightly. She tried with all her might to hold back the seething rage threatening to break loose at any moment, but to no avail.

"I… I've had enough of you," she finally eked out in a strained and hoarse tone. "I'm not your nanny… and I might not even be your instructor any longer… but I'm a soldier, with a mission to fulfill and a reputation to uphold."

She raised her eyes back up once more to meet the evil smirk of her former student, her mind screaming with hatred as she slowly uncoiled the whip with one hand.

"And for all your talk of being a man," she proclaimed vociferously. "You sure sound like a spoiled brat in need of a good lashing!"

In a flash, she drew the metallic whip and cracked it against the ground threateningly. At once the circle of onlookers scattered in a choir of yelps to every side, many dropping their luggage in their haste to vacate the battleground. Seifer's arrogant smirk faded as he drew back his gunblade, replaced by a deadly serious, battle-ready expression.

"This is your last chance!" she warned him over the erupting chaos. "You can either come back peacefully, or be dragged kicking and screaming like the angry little boy you are!"

"You'll regret those words!" Seifer roared as he charged forward to unleash a vicious horizontal slash.

Quistis drew her whip into both hands and parried the slice with ease, expertly flowing into a flurry of swipes the moment he withdrew the blade for another attack. The body of the metal strap slammed into the concrete tiling that lined the floor with each blow, as Seifer rapidly began backing off to distance himself from the bludgeoning whirlwind. Formidable though he was in close-quarters combat, his largely one-dimensional, brute-force fighting style left him helpless with regard to medium-to-long range encounters, the realm in which Quistis excelled. His speed remained his only abiding asset at such a disadvantage, as she precisely guided the spiked tip of the weapon toward his figure with each strike, only for him to quickly bat it away with his own blade in rapid succession. No matter his fleet footwork and reflexes however, so long as she could maintain the necessary distance between them, Seifer's chances of victory were effectively non-existent. All it would take was one misplaced step or mistimed evasion, and the battle would be over. She continued to lash at him feverishly from every which way, never letting him rest for a moment, knowing full well he would tire out before long.

"Freeze!" a gruff voice ordered to their side, Quistis at last ceasing the onslaught as she turned to face the command. A small squadron of armored Galbadian infantry stood before the two with their rifles drawn, closing in slowly upon their frenzied confrontation.

"Put your weapons down, now!" the soldier at the front demanded, Quistis closing her eyes in irritation at the inevitable interruption.

Quickly, she channeled her energy into a translucent protective shield, the troops opening fire the instant it shimmered into existence before her. The high-speed rounds bounced off harmlessly as she charged them, her whip flying every which way as she proceeded to lash the troops into submission. The spike at the weapon's end tore through uniform and flesh with ease, the metal length sweeping them from their feet and toppling them to the hard concrete platform.

As the last soldier fell to his knees in agony, slumping over face first atop a pedestrian's abandoned luggage, a blur of grey and blonde whipped past Quistis' line of sight. Seifer sprinted across the terminal's length through the ensuing pandemonium, leaping over the turnstiles completely as he rushed out of the station. Quistis quickly re-coiled her whip and bounded after him, hoping beyond hope that she would be able to catch up with him before the situation spiraled even further out of control.

* * *

"So _that's_ why there were so many guards around the station earlier," Zell commented aloud.

"Starting a commotion like that was far from ideal," Quistis acknowledged. "But he'd already drawn his weapon, and the attention of practically everyone on the platform along with it. There was no other option."

"You said you put the guards at the city entrance to sleep, right?" Rinoa asked with a hint of curiosity. "Couldn't you have just done that to him and hauled him back on the train? Sounds like that would have saved a lot of trouble."

"It's an area-based effect," Zell explained for her. "When you channel the energy to conjure that kind of spell, it materializes in the form of many tiny spores that rapidly spread out from the source of the emission, kinda like pollen being spread by the wind. It's easy enough to knock yourself out with it if you're not being careful. In a tightly packed-together place like that, it would have put to sleep a lot more people than just him."

"Exactly," Quistis lauded his reasoning. "It would have looked like a chemical outbreak, and the security would have been forced to quarantine the entire area."

"I see," Rinoa bowed her head into her hunched knees. "Sorry, I just don't have any clue how those GF things work. I guess I should have figured if it were an option, you would have taken it."

"It's no problem," she replied. "In hindsight, maybe it _would_ have been the better option. I scoured the city for him, avoiding the guards to the best of my abilities, and eventually caught wind of the president coming in to make his broadcast at the TV station…"

* * *

"Ow!"

The cry of pain echoed from around the corner ahead. Quistis quickened her pace down the alleyway, the clomping of her black boots reverberating throughout the narrow expanse as she surmounted upturned gravel and piles of trash. She reached the end and turned the corner, emerging to the side of the towering TV station. Propped up beside an ajar doorway, its interior revealing what appeared to be a dank stairwell, leaned a young man outfitted in a tan-colored vest with a blue bandana on his head. He groaned in discomfort as she approached cautiously, clutching at the left side of his rib cage as he gradually seated himself upon the pavement.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, taking a knee to lower herself to his level.

"Y-yes, ma'am," he responded very formally in spite of his injury. "I'll be okay. I only wish the guy who knocked me down could've been as considerate."

"Short blonde hair with a long grey coat?" she questioned, knowing full well the answer she would almost certainly receive.

"You know him, ma'am?" the boy responded in confusion. "He just shoved me to the ground and bolted on in! I don't know what he's thinking, the security inside is bound to be unbelievably tight with the president about to take the stage."

Without a single word more, Quistis shot to her feet at once and rushed through the open doorway. She tore up the stairwell at top speed, breaking stride only to maneuver herself around the downed bodies of several Galbadian infantrymen along the way. Seifer interfering with Squall and the others' mission would be disastrous enough, but openly assaulting the leader of a major world power was on another tier of irresponsibility altogether. Were his identity to be uncovered as a Balamb Garden agent, the repercussions would be unfathomable, possibly even triggering a small-scale war between SeeD and the Galbadian military. No matter the risks involved, however slim the odds, Seifer had to be stopped immediately.

She arrived at the third floor landing, the stairwell door propped open by the slain body of a soldier, a stream of crimson pooling upon the floor from his gullet. Quistis poked her head out into the hall to find a similarly dispatched body strewn across the left hand side of the three way intersection. She tilted her head in each direction, and not catching sight of another patrol making the rounds, stepped into the hall and started down the indicated path. She trotted on by the stretch of offices to the end of the hallway, finding the corpse of yet another guard lying idle by a slightly ajar door marked for maintenance staff only. Quistis carefully stepped over the body and entered quickly, the door opening to a small, cramped storage room with a steel-runged ladder fixed into the wall. Gazing up to its apex, she could see it led to a small opening high above, from which she could faintly hear voices echoing down to meet her ears. She grabbed hold of the rungs and hoisted herself up as fast as she could, reaching the top and quietly creeping through the low-clearance passageway.

Quistis emerged onto a narrow metal catwalk running in a rectangular design around the ceiling of a spacious sound stage. Upon the front-most railing were situated no less than a dozen glaring spotlights, trained to fore of the stage roughly twenty feet below. Seifer kneeled upon the metal scaffolding, his eyes cast downward to the erected podium where a middle-aged, blonde haired announcer stood in the midst of an introductory address.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the world," he took his final bow. "President Deling!"

On cue, the young assailant readied his gunblade, emptying the magazine from the bottom of the pistol grip and swiftly drawing another from his coat pocket, shoving it into the loading chamber impatiently. The portly man promptly took his place at the podium below, adjusted himself slightly, and began his speech to the world. Quistis payed him little mind as she crept up on the unsuspecting delinquent, her heart pounding in her chest all the while. She inched forward at an agonizingly slow pace, putting the utmost delicacy into each step as she approached him from the side. She just needed to get in range to knock him out with a sleeping spell, and then could hopefully drag him off and out of the building before the president finished his speech. After a few moments more, she outstretched her hand, preparing to channel the energy to conjure the spell.

Seifer's own free hand viciously lashed out, firmly seizing hold of her wrist and yanking her arm upward suddenly. Quistis grit her teeth shut to resist crying out in shock, as the sheer force of the grapple brought her tumbling over on her back upon the metal scaffolding, producing a significant rumble. She could hear the president below cut his address off abruptly as Seifer bore down on her with his weapon. All was silent for several excruciating moments, Quistis' heart skipping a beat as she stared directly into the young man's hate-filled, piercing blue eyes. Finally, the speech continued below, as the edge of the blade began to lower itself across her neck. With her free arm, she quickly brought up the whip's grip, holding it in place with her palm as the might of her opponent forced it down upon her.

"Just stay out of this!" he furiously whispered to her. "This is my moment of glory, the moment I become a hero!"

"You're no hero," Quistis menaced back, beginning to pump magic into her hand as fast as she could. "It's like I said after the field exam: you're just a reckless fool looking for a fight. And if you could only have taken that one lesson away from me, then maybe it wouldn't have had to come to this."

Seifer could see the energy beginning to charge in her palm, and instantly jumped back upon the catwalk before the frost attack could be unleashed. A deafening metal screech erupted above Quistis' head as he sliced through the scaffolding, breaking her concentration as the solid ground beneath her prostrate figure began to dip. She scrambled to her feet as the catwalk began to collapse under her weight, just barely managing to leap to safety as the support beams gave way, and the section of metal walkway fell to the stage below with a thunderous crash, destroying the podium Deling had just been standing at. Not wasting a single moment of the studio crew's stunned silence, Seifer leaped over the guardrail and onto the stage, landing hard on the debris and charging the president to the rear.

Quistis looked on in shock as the young man wrested the dictator into his grasp, pressing the gunblade to his throat as the studio erupted into chaos. She had failed. The situation had escalated well beyond the point of no return, and her only hope for an intervention now lay in the hands of the three SeeDs stationed somewhere in the city. With a heavy heart, and even heavier weight upon her conscience, she unfurled her metallic whip and descended into the fray.

* * *

"I did everything I could," Quistis ached, her emotions beginning to bubble up as she closed the recounting of her tale. "I really did, but… I just can't stop thinking about it… that maybe if I'd handled things differently, or been just a little quicker…"

She stared down to the carpeting beneath her legs, pleading with herself to maintain her composure in the midst of her allies, and those she now longed desperately to call her friends.

"Maybe I am a failure, after all," she whispered in shame.

"It's not your fault."

Quistis abruptly raised her head back up, noting the distinct timbre of the voice and hoping her ears had not deceived her. Squall lifted his own gaze from the rug, his light blue eyes peering into her own with what seemed to be, unbelievably, a look of understanding.

"You did everything you could," he continued. "But whenever he sets his mind to something, it becomes impossible to reason with him. I know that better than anyone. If it were me, I probably wouldn't have been able to stop him either. So, don't take it personally."

She could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth, so considerate and devoid of judgment they were. His current attitude was a far cry from the disdainful demeanor he had shown her the night of the ball, regardless of the matter-of-fact tonality that accompanied his delivery. It may not have been a direct admission, but to Quistis, it was as clear a sign as any that the young man was indeed more than the uncaring husk he aspired to present himself as. With a sidelong glance to Zell, she could see it was not only her who had taken note of the change, a slight smile creeping over his features as he met her eyes in acknowledgment.

"I won't pretend to understand everything that goes on in his head," Squall continued unabated. "But he's always operated by a code of ethics all his own, living life on his terms and no one else's. He's become as skilled a fighter as he is without even relying on the power of his GF, to the point where it's not even a handicap for him against someone who's been using one for years. It's made him cocky… well, even more so. There was nothing that could have stopped him from doing what he did. Nothing except… the sorceress."

Quistis felt her skin crawl at the very recollection of the eerie scene they had witnessed, the image of the slender, masked woman's approach burned into her retinas. She had previously studied the legends of Hyne, fabled creator of all mankind, and of the women said to bear his magical gift, but never in all her years could she have expected such a myth to hold credence. She would much rather have believed it to be her mind playing tricks on her, a strange hallucination brought on by her lack of sleep. No matter how she tried to rationalize the events however, the magic that had been performed before her very eyes was far beyond the capacity of any Guardian Force.

"What's going to happen to him?" Rinoa weakly mewled, her eyes downcast in sadness.

"He may already be dead," Squall bluntly answered her.

"That's…!" she bolted her head up, only barely managing to hold herself back from exploding at him before she rephrased in a shrill whisper. "That's terrible! Why would you say that!?"

"Because it's the only logical outcome," he explained. "The magic we saw in that dressing room alone was much more than anything a SeeD could possibly hope to match. Strong as he is, if it came down to combat between her and Seifer, there would be no contest."

"Even so," the girl despaired. "I still hope he's alive!"

"Hope all you want, but reality isn't so kind. You'd be naive to think everything will just work out the way you want it to. That's why, so long as you keep your expectations grounded, you can take anything, and times like these will be a lot less painful for you. But regardless, whatever you wish is none of my business."

 _And he's back…_

Rinoa stared irritably at the young man bedecked in black, opening her mouth to fire back when the sound of footsteps climbing the outside staircase made themselves known. The door creaked open moments later to reveal Agnes and her daughter, standing in the frame as their eyes passed over the seated five.

"We've just gotten word that the extra battalions are withdrawing from the city," the elderly woman informed them. "Only the soldiers normally stationed here will remain on duty. If you're gonna leave town, now's your best chance. You know how persistent those soldiers can be."

"Any chance we can get to your boat, Instructor?" Zell looked to Quistis pleadingly.

"I highly doubt it," she regretfully responded. "We can't just walk right out the front gate. They're bound to have extra security set up after all that's happened. Seems like our only option out of here is by train."

"Sorry to impose, ma'am," Selphie addressed their gracious host. "But, you don't suppose we could stay a little longer until the intercontinental line comes back tonight?"

"No can do, hun," Agnes shook her head. "I told those guards before where they could take it, but they'll be back with a warrant. If you're gonna leave, it's got to be now."

"So, what's the plan, Mr. Leader?" Rinoa directed her ire at Squall, rising to her feet and stretching her arms and legs out. "Is there a safe place you can take me? This is an order. An order from your _client_ , remember?"

Squall's face took on an unmistakable look of frustration at the girl's jab, clearly racking his brain to devise a destination where they would be able to seek refuge. Quistis already knew full well the exact procedure they were to follow in the event of such a predicament.

"Garden Code, Article 8, Line 7," she recited, hoping to jog his memory. She had already memorized the passage in question, her rigorous studies for the instructor's certification continuing to benefit even after her demotion: _In the event that returning to the assigned Garden is not possible, report to the nearest Garden._

"So, we head for Galbadia Garden?" he spoke moments later.

"Precisely. I've been there several times, and should be able to explain our situation to them."

"Then let's get moving!" Rinoa declared. "The line bound for Dollet stops just east of there. It's almost noon now, so if we hurry, we should be able to make it aboard in time!"

Quistis and the others rose to their feet simultaneously, thanking their hosts profusely as they filed out of the room and back down the stairs to the main level. Zell slowly cracked the front door open, checking both ways to ensure there were no patrols passing by, and motioned for the four to follow. Quistis turned back once more to the elderly lady and her daughter by the base of the stairs, bowing in reverence and appreciation of the goodwill they had shown them.

"Just take good care of Rinoa, you hear?" Agnes smiled back. "You've got guts, young lady, so keep your head held high."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, her heart warmed by the sincere compliment, and stepped out the door with her compatriots onto the cobbled stone roads.

Rinoa took the lead as they forged their way through the midday streets, sticking to the back-roads when possible and keeping a constant eye out for approaching patrols from every direction. The walkways were sparsely frequented by contrast to the level of traffic Quistis had observed upon her arrival in the city, beginning to thicken only as they drew closer to the local continental terminals situated further down the length of the station from the Timber – Balamb line. From their vantage point opposite the arched entryway, she could make out the lengthy figure of the train sitting idly by the platform's edge, as swarms of passengers began to board quickly.

"Psst!"

Quistis turned her head in the direction of the urgent whisper, her eyes coming to a rest on a young man in an indigo colored shirt standing in the shadows of the adjacent alley intersection. His face bore a dark goatee below a frantic expression, his eyes trained first and foremost to Rinoa's figure at the head of the pack.

"Zone!" she exclaimed rushing over to the man, wrapping him in a tight hug as she met his figure. "Is everyone okay? Have you bumped into Watts?"

"Yeah, most of us managed to get out," he assured her. "They've regrouped at the Aphorora. I figured you'd all be leaving town, and knew it would kill you if you got to the station only to find out the tickets were all gone."

"Are you serious!?" Selphie's heart sank, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"We'll do whatever it takes to get on that train," Squall affirmed with audible intensity.

"R-relax!" Zone held his right hand up before him in defense, ruffling through his pocket with his left. "I planned ahead and bought five, right here."

He withdrew his hand from his navy blue, baggy pants, a set of ticket stubs clenched within his grasp, and fanned them out before the group.

"Zone, you're a lifesaver!" Rinoa exclaimed excitedly, practically yanking the slips from his hand in jubilation.

"Not a problem," he blushed as she proceeded to distribute the tickets to each member of the group. "One for you, three for the SeeDs… and the last one was _gonna_ be for me, but…"

The man turned his deep brown eyes to Quistis, his expression a mixture of sadness and obligation as he looked her over for several moments.

"Watts told me about you, and what happened in the studio. He wanted me to thank you properly for all your help. The last ticket's yours."

"I can't do that!" she insisted, feeling immense guilt at the notion of leaving this poor young man stranded, especially after having gone to such lengths to assist them in making their escape. Her conscience would not allow her to accept the selfless act of kindness, even as the rest of her mind screamed for her to take the offer and run.

"Ow!" Zone doubled over suddenly, clutching at his midriff as he fell to one knee. "My stomach!"

The cry sounded distinctly forced and insincere, the young man evidently putting on a performance. Quistis noted a snort of derision from Squall as he turned his head back to the terminal entrance still brimming with bystanders. Rinoa knelt before her feigning friend, placing her hand upon his shoulder comfortingly.

"Thank you, Zone," she sweetly acknowledged his selfless deference, giving him another hug. "We'll see each other again, okay? We're all going to make it out of this mess, and liberate Timber together. I promise."

"I know," he achingly replied, still faking the stomach pains as he shook her off. "Now get going, the train's about to leave!"

Rinoa released her grip, rose to her feet, and started across the opposing plaza to the Timber – Dollet line. The rest of the group followed swiftly, Quistis alone staying behind for a moment longer as she kept her eyes trained to the hunched young man.

"Why?" she asked incredulously, still taken aback by the generosity shown to her.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he smiled, finally giving up the charade as he rose back to his feet. "The honorable thing to do."

"Honor," she mused to herself, understanding now more than ever just what a powerful force it was. It had impelled a self-serving delinquent to take a stand for a cause greater than himself, a disgraced instructor who had always lived her life by the rules to pursue him far across the sea, and now a young man to abdicate his only passage out of the city to a complete stranger. She smiled faintly with pride, her fatigued and conflicted mind at last feeling at peace.

"Thank you," she softly spoke, turning at last to follow after her comrades across the square.


	14. Chapter 12 - The Price of a Dream

12

 **CHAPTER 12 – THE PRICE OF A DREAM**

The north-bound continental express had wound along its route all through the afternoon, tracing the curving edges of the great Obel Lake up through the eastern occupied territories en route to Dollet. True to Zone's word, the seated carriages had been completely packed to the brim. No cushioned arm-chair lay vacant save for the ones they had been forced to take upon boarding, all of which had been spread out from one another across the length of the fuselage. Despite the cramped leg-room of the seat Squall had taken between a pair of total strangers, he had welcomed the following six-and-a-half hour reprieve from his comrades' company. He was in no mood to entertain their incessant queries, his mind still attempting to process the tightly packed together events that had transpired in the span of a single morning.

Chief among them all remained the appearance of the sorceress, which his rational mind still struggled to believe had actually happened as he had seen it. Try as he might to disavow the possibility however, the sight had been too vivid to be a mirage, and the spellcraft too unconventional in nature to be the work of a Guardian Force. He recalled the monstrous undead creature which had been strategically placed for them aboard the president's decoy train, and the group's subsequent speculation as to where it could have come from. If the mysterious woman were in fact capable of conjuring such a vile and destructive force, Squall could only begin to imagine what the full extent of her power could bring about. He did not know for what purpose she had stepped forward from the shadows to side with Galbadia, but understood perfectly that for all of Deling's diplomatic bluster, her appointment as an ambassador would pave the way for no peace talks.

It was late afternoon by the time the train pulled into East Academy Station, the setting sun precariously close to dipping below the small stretch of forest to the west. A lengthy and wide walkway trailed from the platform rest station onward through the greenery, a familiar floating halo-like structure peeking above the treetops in the nearing twilight. Squall had never been to Galbadia Garden, though had learned much of its unique stature among the three institutions in his studies. As opposed to Balamb Garden which largely prided itself on maintaining political neutrality, it boasted a tightly-knit relationship with the Galbadian government, and largely served to train students for induction into the nation's military forces. Despite this, the administration still maintained a close relationship with Balamb, and like Trabia had established a transfer program for potential recruitment into SeeD as an alternate curricular track. The academy's continued observance of such a peculiar dual allegiance was the only abiding factor which reassured Squall that they would not be handed over into custody upon their arrival.

Quistis led the party onward down the man-made path winding through the foliage, the thick trees all around casting long shadows in the dimming pre-evening hours. Her energy seemed to have returned slightly since their departure from Timber, having evidently taken advantage of the lengthy train ride to catch up on her lack of sleep. It was something Squall could sympathize with now more than ever, in light of how mentally drained he had felt following his strangely vivid dream aboard the intercontinental express two days ago.

"It should only be another mile or so," she informed the four as they marched forward with purpose. "Maybe less. I've been here several times for assignments and seminar classes, and know the headmaster pretty well. Just leave all the talking to me once we get there."

"You're sure they're not gonna just turn us into the government when we show up?" Selphie questioned her worryingly.

"That shouldn't be an issue once I explain our situation," Quistis assured her. "We're for all intents and purposes just asylum seekers. I'm going to have to stretch the truth a bit for Rinoa, though."

"It's fine," the girl replied, pulling her duster sweater tightly around her in the midst of the rapidly mounting chill. "It'll probably go a lot smoother if we just pretend I'm a SeeD, too."

"I… I'm worried about Balamb Garden," Zell finally broached the unspoken concern that had undoubtedly plagued their minds for the duration of the journey, braking to a halt in their midst.

Squall's mind had likewise been disquieted as to the fate of their home, but remained pragmatic enough to realize that there was nothing they could do in their current situation. In the span of a single day they had been rendered refugees stranded in a foreign land, what few personal belongings they had brought with them having gone up in flames along with the Forest Owls' hideout. They would be entirely reliant on the goodwill of the Galbadia Garden administration to offer them a berth, and to likewise arrange for their extraction. The wheels had already been set in motion, leaving them as mere bystanders to accept whatever came of the aftermath.

"I mean, if anything happens, it's my fault," the blonde continued dishearteningly. "You really think the president will retaliate like he said?"

"Possibly," Squall affirmed, coming to a stop by his side. "I can't imagine he'd just let an attempt on his life like that go unanswered."

"But even so!" he desperately pleaded for reassurance. "Even if they do send in the army, everyone back at the Garden'll be able to fight 'em off, right? We've got a student body in the thousands, and tons of 'em are fully trained SeeDs!"

"And about half of those students are junior classmen still in basic education," Squall reminded him. "A lot of whom haven't even started combat training yet. The administration would be sent scrambling to secure them all, which would easily cut the SeeD forces in half while the whole army surrounds the campus and marches right in. It would be a bloodbath."

Zell's hopeful expression withered and faded away before them, his eyes downcast to the cobbled path beneath their feet in despair. As bitter and discomforting as it was to acknowledge, there was simply no conceivable way that the Garden's forces would be capable of fending off the entire might of the Galbadian nation. Isolated on the small Balamb island as it was, and with the army capable of shuttling in troops by both sea and air as they had learned that morning, there would be no escape.

"Oh, you're just _such_ a great leader, aren't you?" Rinoa snapped, her expression turning stern as she stared him down. "Do you actually _enjoy_ acting so callously towards your comrades?"

"The truth hurts sometimes," Squall irritably explained, his head beginning to pound in frustration. "It's like I told you, reality doesn't always work out the way you want it to, and no amount of wishful thinking will change that."

"That's no excuse for the way you're talking to him!" she exploded, the very timbre of her voice now feeling as though it was piercing his mind. "Zell's looking to you for support! Just any kind of encouragement to make things easier!"

 _Running from the truth only makes it that much harder when the time comes to face the facts. Am I the only one who realizes that? No, I'm sure Seifer…_

"Don't you ever think about the well-being of your friends!?"

 _Damn, she's infuriating. She's actually giving me a headache._

"Are you even listening, Squall!?"

 _Wait… this sensation… it feels just like…_

He could not complete the thought before a sharp pain stabbed through his mind, forcing him to his knee with a cry of agony. He clutched his head in both hands as a familiar ringing overtook his ears and Quistis and Selphie rushed over to his side.

"Squall!" the former shouted his name as his vision began to fade. "What's wrong?"

His mouth would no longer abide by his own will to answer, his entire body falling limp as he collapsed to the cobbled pathway, his head twisted sideways for his eyes to meet Zell's red sneakers. All slowly faded to black as the ringing continued, barely able to discern the blonde's words over the intensifying din.

"Hold on… this has happened before…"

* * *

"The map says it should be just over this ridge!" Laguna called to his comrades, stowing the leaflet in his rear pocket as he glanced back over his shoulder.

Kiros and Ward trudged on up the gravely slope after him, the latter's face contorted in strain, weighed down as he was by the mighty harpoon slung over his shoulder. Still the giant pressed onward, not slowing in the slightest to keep up with his comrade's swaying, braided dreadlocks before him. Laguna looked on in sympathy and admiration of the man's unyielding persistence, knowing that if he were in Ward's shoes, he would have been forced to abandon the heavy weapon at least twenty miles back. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he immediately realized what a careless mistake it would have been, when considering the vicious encounters they had already faced on their long and trying journey.

It had been several days since they had come ashore on the northern tip of the Centran continent's Serengetti Plains, and begun their lengthy hike across the desolate stretch of wasteland to reach their designated mission objective. The rocky, mountainous terrain lay completely arid save for faint traces of vegetation, all that remained of a once prosperous land now long uninhabited by mankind. Their nights spent making camp had been largely devoid of sleep, the barren land teeming with strange and unnatural wildlife the likes of which Laguna had never seen before. He had heard the many tales of soldiers who had been dispatched to the ruined continent for such surveillance outings, and of the monstrous sights they claimed to have encountered. From hulking mantises twice the size of a fully grown man, to a horde of bi-pedal lizard creatures wielding hand-crafted knives, each bore their own horror story surrounding the ruined land shrouded in mystery.

Upon learning that he and his squadmates were to be themselves dispatched, he had taken it upon himself to bring along a surplus of assault rifle ammunition, strung along the bandoliers he wore entwined across his torso. Already he had expended at least a fourth of the initial reserve fending off the wildlife that had matched his expectations and more. Massive bear monstrosities with four pincer-shaped claws protruding from their torsos, slithering slug creatures which spewed oil from their orifices, and fleet-footed, hunched dragon-like monsters with razor-sharp tails were but three of the ferocious breeds they had run across, each battle pushing the trio to their limits and beyond. It was more strenuous and nerve-wracking than anything Laguna had experienced before, and enough adventure and excitement to last him the rest of his days. He was both physically and mentally fatigued, to the point where he could almost feel his mind buzzing once again as it had in the midst of the Timber offensive.

 _Once we're done with this one, I think I'm gonna call it a career._

"If this is really the place, then maybe try keeping your voice down?" Kiros chided him as he reached Laguna's side. "We're here for recon, not to start a commotion."

"Yeah, I know," he acknowledged his comrade's point. "But something tells me it's not gonna be that cut-and-dry."

"When did you turn into such a pessimist?" Ward snorted, bringing up the rear. "Things not work out with you-know-who? You still haven't told us what happened."

"I said that's none of you guys' business!" Laguna snapped. "And no, it's got nothing to do with that. It's just… I dunno, maybe constantly being on edge these last few days is gettin' to me. I've just suddenly got a bad feeling about all this."

 _[Why does this keep happening?]_

"Seriously, a _really_ bad feeling."

"Let's just keep our heads down and get through this, then," Kiros patted him on the shoulder as he took point. "We ought to be well behind enemy lines by now, so stay on your toes."

Laguna sighed in agreement and swiveled to follow suit, trailing the slender uniformed man up the remainder of the sloping ascent. Discomforting as the buzzing in his head and the pit in his stomach were, they had a mission to execute, passed down from the army's highest authority. They had been deployed to the shattered southern continent to investigate reports of a sizable Esthar infantry battalion amassing in the region. Thus far the widest extent of the global confrontation had been largely naval and air-based in nature, occupying the waters and airspace to Galbadia's western coast that divided the two nations. Ground forces had recently been dispatched to the northernmost Trabia snowfields to confront a similar gathering of enemy troops, and with Timber now secured, a reinforced brigade had been established upon the sterling Horizon Bridge which ran across the sea to the east.

With defenses promptly established upon every other potential avenue of invasion, all that remained was the desolate southern Centran continent. It was hallowed land, regarded in history's annals as the ancient cradle of civilization that had given rise to humanity's dominance over nature, and paved the way for the later settlements which would ultimately become the Dollet and Esthar empires. It had continued to flourish in the company of its offspring over the course of many millennia, until its sudden and all-encompassing destruction eighty years prior. Overnight, the very land itself had been torn asunder by what was now theorized to be a meteor strike, the entire continent instantly obliterated and reduced to nothing more than a fragmented wasteland. There had been no survivors on record, what scant few lingering traces of the Centran legacy that remained standing amid the rubble utterly destroyed. All at once, the hordes of monsters had sprung up upon the desecrated land, rendering any attempt at rebuilding impossible. And so, the once mighty civilization slowly faded away into legend, its remnants abandoned and left to the wilderness that had claimed it.

The inhospitable and treacherous terrain put an assembling army at great risk, no matter the advantageous positioning to the south of Galbadian territory. As Laguna surmounted the top of the ridge to join Kiros, crouching by his side as he swept his eyes across the lay of the land, he was greeted by a sight further along the stretch of mountain he could not have possibly foreseen. A winding trail traced the edge of the cragged cliff they now knelt upon, makeshift steel rails driven into the rock along its length to prevent a fall to the crashing waves below. By the map's indication, he had noted that they had been bound for the northern edge of the gargantuan crater's epicenter, the great schism that signified the exact spot where the entire continent had been ripped apart at the seams so long ago. Breathtaking though the vista was, continuing for miles onward in each direction, it was the bulging protrusion embedded into the eastern cliff-side before them that had stolen away his focus.

Along the twisting path dipping down along the side of the ridge, a gargantuan spherical mass of pale green crystal jutted from from the carved rock face, easily a hundred feet in both height and width as it hung out over the sea. Intricate metal scaffolding had been constructed all about its frame, the armored figures which crawled upon the network of walkways appearing as gnats by comparison to its sheer scale. Cranes, automated drills and all other manner of construction vehicles swarmed the ridge on both sides, tirelessly chiseling away at the great wall of rock that held it in place. This was no infantry battalion preparing for an invasion, but an excavation operation, with a prize too gargantuan to even fathom what could be done with it should they ever manage to get it out.

"Holy _shit!_ " Laguna sharply breathed in, completely awestruck by the sight.

"Well, _there's_ something you don't see everyday," Kiros agreed in equal measures of amazement. "You think it might be a piece of the meteor that wiped everything out? We are right next to the crater, after all."

"Could be," Laguna pondered aloud, looking the mass of shimmering stone up and down feverishly as a new idea occurred to him. "How much do you think it's all worth?"

"I don't think I can count that high," Ward commented from their side, setting his harpoon down beside him. "And good luck trying to haul it all out of here. Something that big, they're setting themselves up for years of non-stop work."

"But it looks like that's just what they've got in mind," Kiros quipped, evidently unable to pull his eyes away from the sight. "They're dedicated, that's for sure, and I guess they've got their android workers to handle the worst of it. At least it's not a full army assembling like we were expecting. I guess that's mission accomplished for us. Time to head back and report what we found."

"Y'know," Laguna started, unable to resist the mischievous grin that crept across his features of its own accord. "It's been hell just gettin' here, and I'd hate to go back without any real sense of reward… so what do you say we nab us a few souvenirs for our troubles?"

"You've _got_ to be joking," Ward bluntly shot his idea down, his face the very image of incredulity and skepticism combined. "You think you're going to just walk right in there, carve out a chunk and walk back out? If you wanna try, be my guest, but you're going it alone."

"I'm with Ward," Kiros backed his hulking comrade up. "Don't let your greed be your undoing, Laguna. Think about the mission."

"Screw the mission!" Laguna snapped at his squad, rising from his knees and pivoting around to face them. "This's been a long time comin', but soon as this op's finished, I'm cuttin' ties with the army. I've been thinkin' it since Timber, and I've finally made up my mind. I don't want any part of this damn war anymore!"

He cast his mind back to the image of the smoldering stretch of burning woodland, the billowing smoke rising high into the midday skies as his heavy heart had sunk into his stomach. As he'd watched the mammoth funeral pyre in the distance consume the lives of thousands, so too had he felt his own will to fight be ripped from him and tossed upon the kindling. He could no longer bring himself to serve a cause he did not believe in, when he knew his true calling lay elsewhere, waiting for him to take control of his own destiny. His all too brief evening with Julia had been the final push he had needed to take the plunge, to pursue his own dreams just as she longed to pursue hers. The time for idling was long past. Now was the time to take action.

"It's time for me to start livin' life on my own terms," he vowed to his stunned comrades and closest friends. "I'm finally gonna start my career as a journalist, like I've been tellin' you guys. And with just a little bit of that crystal, I'll have all the funds I'll need to make that leap comfortably. So, just humor me this one time, will ya? Show a little support for a man when he needs it most!"

 _[He knows what he wants in life. Good for him, I guess.]_

 _Maybe this feeling's my conscience telling me when something's the right thing to do._

"Laguna," Kiros uttered the man's name aloud, his eyes tightly shut in frustration as he fought to remain stoic. "We've _always_ supported you, for as long as we've been teammates. And it's because we support you that we aren't going to just stand here and let you throw your life away on a reckless gamble like this. You're not thinking straight. You need to calm down and take a step back for a minute."

"And let the biggest opportunity of my life just slip on by?" he threw his hands up in disbelief. "Hell, forget me, this could be a big break for all of us! Don't tell me you guys are actually _okay_ with what happened back in Timber? We're turnin' into the bad guys here!"

"And how's getting yourself killed going to change anything?" Ward warned him, his tone unusually sincere for once. "I've got plenty of issues with the way this war's being waged, and if you want to quit, I won't blame you for a second. But Kiros is right, you need to be sensible and not go rushing in half-cocked. I'm telling you this from experience."

The man pointed his thick index finger to the winding scar upon the left side of his face, trailing his features from his blue bandana to his stubbled facial hair. The etching into his skin was deep, the sustained wound undoubtedly having been excruciating to bear, and only served to compliment the hulking giant's intimidating figure that much more.

"This is the price you pay for being reckless," he steadfastly affirmed.

The piercing look in his striking blue eyes was now more serious than Laguna had ever seen, forcing his own gaze to the gravely mountain terrain below his feet. His vision bored holes into the very soil below, so focused it could easily have chiseled out the giant crystal to his rear wholesale. Laguna understood full well the plight of his squadmates, and their sound rational. He knew the dangers involved, and realized the probability that he would be able to get close enough without being spotted was slim at best. And yet, for the sake of starting his life anew, in pursuit of the dream Julia had urged him to shoot for, such minuscule odds were practically negligible in the face of the potential good that could come from it all. He was not meant for the army's employ, and had nowhere else to go should he withdraw as he intended to. Fate had presented him a boon in his hour of need, and to simply reject it outright was something he would never be able to come to terms with.

"Don't make the same mistake I did, Laguna," Ward's voice met his ears once more. "We're only looking out for your best interests. As your comrades… as your friends."

Laguna raised his head slowly, brushing away the strands of lengthy dark brown hair from his face to gaze at his squadmates once more. His eyes instantly shot open in surprise, as a platoon of four Esthar soldiers outfitted in sleek full-body armor slowly crept up behind the two, their razor sharp glaives drawn and poised to strike.

"Get down!" Laguna shouted, as he frantically fumbled over his shoulder for his assault rifle's grip.

He was too slow, as the nearest enemy leaped for Ward's gargantuan frame and swiftly drew the blade across his neck. The giant's eyes went wide in shock, a distinct choking sound erupting from his throat as a streak of crimson began to pour from the wound. Kiros immediately spun around with the speed of a tornado, drawing his katals and slicing the assailant to ribbons in an endless whirlwind of blood-red steel, as their comrade fell to his knees and clutched at his gullet. Laguna roared in despair at the sight, bringing his rifle up at last and unloading a barrage of rounds indiscriminately at their attackers. The gunfire roared across the wide expanse of the ridge, the soldiers' lifeless bodies falling limp to the ground as the bullets tore through their suited figures.

"Ward!" Kiros yelped the man's name as he sheathed his blades, kneeling beside his friend's still convulsing body and frantically pulling all the bandages he had packed from his pouch. Laguna gazed back across the stretch of mountain to the excavation site, now abuzz with activity as soldiers sprinted along the metal scaffolding with great haste.

"It…" Ward faintly eked out as Kiros steadied his head to wrap the bandages around his neck, his voice shattered and sickly. "It… was fun… you guys…"

"Don't talk like that, man!" Laguna ordered. "In fact, don't say another word! Save your strength, because we're getting out of this!"

He reached down to his utility belt with his free hand and retrieved the wireless com-link he had been supplied for the mission. He grabbed Kiros' arm forcefully and shoved the device into his palm, staring the man dead in his deep brown eyes.

"When you're done patching him up, get him back down the mountain and radio for extraction. I'll buy you some time."

"You're not _still_ going to try what I think you are!?" he gasped in disbelief.

"Just get a move on!" Laguna commanded, shoving a new magazine into his assault rifle and pulling back the loading mechanism with a mechanical chink. "I'll see you on the other side… whichever one that ends up being. Thanks for everything. Both of you."

He quickly swiveled away from the horrified face of his comrade, tearing along the edge of the abyss in defiance of the frantic calls to his back. Gunshots erupted from the scaffolding ahead, peppering the cliff-side all around as he charged onward down the sloping trail. He returned fire without breaking stride even for a moment, and watched as the bodies of enemy soldiers slumped upon the catwalks and plummeted to the crashing waves below. If today would indeed be his last day of service in the Galbadian military, he would cap off his tour of duty in a blaze of glory. True to their words, his squadmates had always been there for him when he needed their support most, and now was his time to return the favor by providing a diversion for them to make their retreat. If he managed to nick a piece of crystal in the process, all the better. It was a longshot, but he refused to stop now. His dream may not have been a grand one, but deep in his soul, he knew it was one worth fighting for.

Laguna drew ever closer to the side of the unbelievably massive crystal, mowing down any soldier that stood in his way all the while. He slid to a halt upon the steep rock ledge by the side of a thick crane cable, stretching down to the base level of the excavation site roughly thirty feet below. Dozens of infantry swarmed about the jagged expanse like a frenzied ant colony, hauling into place a set of heavy machine gun turrets prepped and ready for operation. Not wasting a second, Laguna grabbed a grenade from his belt, bit down upon the pin with his teeth to pull it free, and lobbed it over the edge into the commotion. He grabbed hold of the crane cable with one arm and swung himself over the ridge as it detonated below in a shower of orange flame. He proceeded to unload every last round left in his machine gun with the other as he dangled precariously above the scattered and incinerated platoon. Even as the recoil threatened to send him toppling off the cable to his demise, he firmly maintained his grip, only allowing it to lax as the last of his ammunition was expended and he began to slide himself down to the bottom.

He descended into the smoldering fray of destruction he had wrought, what soldiers had not been caught in the explosion lying riddled by the wild volley of bullets he had unleashed in his desperado-like assault. He quickly ejected the empty magazine from his weapon and grabbed a new one from his bandoliers, jamming it into the slot abruptly as he scanned his eyes across the terrain. The towering sphere rested immediately before him, shimmering in the spectacle of the late afternoon sun. All around lay the toppled and smoking remains of drilling equipment, blown apart by the blast and rendered completely inoperable. It mattered little to Laguna, who merely needed one functional piece of equipment to carve out a small chunk. Even a standard pickaxe would suffice.

His focus was torn away by the approach of several sets of footsteps to his front, sounding far heavier and more methodical in their rhythm to his ears. A squadron of three Esthar soldiers emerged from beyond the veil of smoldering wreckage, their body-suits bearing a unique black and green color scheme as opposed to the standard purple and gray. Laguna raised his assault rifle again as they charged him with their glaives extended, loosing round after round into their stiff physiques. The bullets made their mark, but did little to slow their approach, ripping through the uniforms in a fanfare of sparks to reveal a mechanized exoskeleton concealed underneath.

 _Androids!?_

Laguna barely managed to shift his weapon into a parry as the first robotic soldier rushed him, bringing its glaive thundering down upon the body of his outstretched assault rifle. The force of the blow was far stronger than that of an average human, sending his planted feet skidding backwards as he fought against the strain of the attack. The second leapt from the right side at that very moment, forcing him to jump backwards from the engagement as the blade swooshed through the space his body had occupied just a second before. Giving him no time to catch his breath, the third charged from the left, lowering its elbow into a ramming position. It slammed into Laguna's chest, the force knocking the wind from his lungs as he barreled backwards and toppled through the makeshift railing erected at the edge of the precipice. And then, before he knew it, he was falling. He stared up in shock as the wind whipped through his hair, his body plummeting from the ledge to the water below.

 _I guess this really is my last day on the job,_ he realized as he shut his eyes in anticipation of the impact. _Kiros, Ward… I'm sorry…_

* * *

Squall shot upright at once with a gasp, his head pounding and dazed as he woke from the vivid near-death experience. His nerves were on fire, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he placed his hand on his racing heart. The fall had been so real, so terrifying, and he so helpless to do anything to stop it. He inhaled and exhaled heavily, willing his pulse to slow its frantic rhythm, and took comfort in the fact that he had regained control of his own anatomy. Being the third time in the span of a mere two weeks, it was now more than apparent that these visions were far from normal dreams. He could not fathom the reason for their repeated occurrence, nor if what he had experienced each time were reality or his own twisted fantasy. When accounting for the sheer lifelike nature they exuded however, down to his unnerving ability to feel Laguna's very emotions and practically hear his inner thoughts, it frightened him to consider what may happen should he die in that world.

 _Or… is that what just happened now?_

The pounding within both his chest and mind slowly began to recede, as he lifted his eyes up from the crimson sheets he had been nestled within to examine his immediate surroundings. He lay in a large infirmary wing, the color palate of the gray walls far more drab and austere than those of Balamb Garden's, illuminated by dim fluorescent lighting ingrained into the ceiling. Not a window was in sight, nor a physician on standby, merely bed after bed, each complimented with a small metallic nightstand, his gunblade currently propped up against the one by his own. It was a cold and unfeeling stretch of room he occupied, its atmosphere more akin to a morgue than a recovery annex. Given the vacant state of his vicinity, with not a single other bed taken, there was little guarantee that he had not in fact passed into purgatory, where he now waited to be judged for his life's worth. The hissing of the adjacent automatic door drew his attention, as in stepped his only proof that he had not been whisked away from the mortal realm.

"Squall!" Rinoa blurted out his name as she rushed to his bedside, quickly throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

The sudden lunge once again briefly registered to him as an incoming attack as it had in her room the previous day. Disoriented and confused as he was however, his reflexes would not have been quick enough to halt her if he tried. She clung to his figure for several moments before he motioned to her with a pat on the shoulder to release him.

"Are you okay?" she asked him with concern as she slowly loosened her grip on him. "The way you just collapsed all of a sudden really freaked us all out. Zell said it's happened before. Are you sick?"

"I'm fine," he insisted, rubbing his head as the last of the aching began to fade away. "Just exhausted, that's all."

"I can understand that," she sighed, her worried look turning glum. "I know we've put you three through a lot today. And, uh… I think I might have said too much before. You know, in the woods. I'm sorry, Squall. I should've just kept my mouth shut."

He recalled the choice words she had shared with him on the trail, and just how similar they had been to those of Zell right before he had experienced his previous fainting episode on board the intercontinental express. Could there have been a connection? Some triggering series of words or emotions that had rendered him comatose on command? The notion was ludicrous to consider, but with no other plausible explanation at hand, it was perhaps the only one that made sense.

"Forget about it," he brushed her apology away. "So, I take it we're in Galbadia Garden now?"

"Yeah," she affirmed, rising back to her feet. "Zell carried you all the way here after you collapsed."

"And I gotta say, you're a lot heavier than you look!"

The comment came from the open doorway, as Squall turned to see the tattooed blonde step through into the infirmary, followed by a giddy Selphie in tow.

"So great to see you're back up a lot quicker this time!" the energetic girl beamed as she pranced over to the opposite side of the bed from Rinoa, by his resting gunblade. "I'm sure that's as good a sign as any that whatever sickness you've got is finally about to bite the dust!"

"That reminds me," Squall grunted, raising his left arm bearing his wristwatch to his eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"Only about half-an-hour this time, I think," Zell answered, trudging over to Rinoa's side. "After the last one, I wasn't expecting you to be up again until tomorrow morning."

"Half-an-hour?" Squall repeated, musing over the curious time frame. Once again, it seemed the duration he had spent asleep had directly correlated with his time spent in Laguna's body.

"Yeah, luckily we didn't have much further to go, so I just hoisted you over my shoulder and set you down here once we arrived. Guess we're even for the piggyback ride, huh?"

"Thanks," he mumbled, unable to believe the incident in question had happened just that very morning. Between the failed kidnapping plot, Seifer's attempt on the president, the sorceress's appearance, and now this latest Laguna dream, things had spiraled so far out of control in the last twenty-four hours that it was hard to believe the world had not gone completely insane overnight.

"So, anyway," Rinoa started up again. "After we dropped you off, we went to go grab a bite to eat in the cafeteria, while Quistis explained our situation to the Headmaster. We agreed we'd meet back here once everything's been taken care of."

"And do we have any news?" Squall asked bluntly. "Anything about the Garden or Seifer?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," called a familiar voice from the doorway. Quistis stepped on through, brushing her long blonde fringes from her face to reveal an expression wrought with anxiety. "But before we get to that, are you okay? Zell and Selphie told me this isn't the first time this has happened. It's not normal to be suddenly passing out like this at random."

"I'm _fine_ ," he repeated himself, growing more irritable by the second in the face of such constant pestering. "Just very tired. I'm sure once I get some rest, it'll all be okay."

"If you say so," she muttered, striding to the foot of his bed.

"So?" Zell frantically inquired. "How did it go? What's the news on the Garden?"

"Firstly, Headmaster Martine understands our situation, and has arranged guest rooms for us to use in the meantime."

Quistis reached into her back pouch and procured a set of four silver keycards, fanning them out before the bedside congregation.

"Only four?" Squall pondered aloud.

"Since Zell and Selphie told me you were out for hours on end the first time, I didn't bother getting a fifth one," she clarified. "And frankly, I think it's for the best that you stay put here for the time being, on the off chance your condition changes again."

"Whatever," he begrudgingly accepted the circumstances, as the threesome gathered around him each took a keycard from the former instructor's outstretched grasp.

"As for Balamb Garden, it's safe," she continued, placing her own back in her pouch. "Seifer's attack on the president was classed as an independent action. There's been an official notice given from the government that SeeD is not being held responsible. So, on that front, we can all breathe easy."

"Oh, thank you so much for that!" Zell exhaled deeply, a large load evidently lifted from his chest. Squall shared his relief at the president's decision to spare the Garden, but held his jubilation fast at the understanding of what Quistis had yet to tell them.

"So, you're saying Seifer's the one who's going to take all the blame?" Selphie spoke up, echoing his sentiments precisely.

Quistis hesitated for a moment, her eyes closing in acknowledgment as her head dipped in grief. The question hung in the air for an uncomfortably long amount of time, Squall already knowing the answer before it finally left her mouth.

"The trial is over… and the sentence has been carried out."

The unwelcoming cold of the dimly lit infirmary at once became a freezing tundra. Not a word was spoken as the faces of the three around him each gaped in astonishment at the news. Even for Squall, who had predicted such an outcome from the moment he had seen the young man swept away by the sorceress' dark magic, to actually hear the words from Quistis' mouth was something he could never have truly prepared himself for. Seconds passed in stark silence, not a one among the five daring to so much as utter a moan of surprise, until finally Rinoa collapsed to her knees, her head bowed upon the bed by Squall's thigh.

"He… he was executed?" she fought to maintain her composure, the creaking in her voice unmistakable. "Of course he was… he attacked the president after all. He sacrificed himself… just to help us… just to help our cause."

"I'm sorry," Quistis replied gently, still unable to open her eyes. "But I'm sure he was prepared for the worst. Otherwise he wouldn't have come all this way. I didn't believe it when he said it, but… he really was just fighting for what he believed in, to follow his dream and make a difference to the people he thought were important to him."

' _Follow his dream…'_

Squall could not help but recall Laguna's same determination, the prideful conviction to follow his own dream that had likewise led to his untimely end. Foolish though it may have been, he too had taken a stand for a future he desperately believed in, and paid the price for it. Seifer was fundamentally no different, and after his time spent in the mind of the hopeless Galbadian soldier who aspired for more than what life had dealt him, Squall realized he could understand what his arch-rival must have felt that much more.

"Damn," Zell swore as he hung his head in despair. "I never liked the guy… but executed? That's just…"

"I… I really liked him," Rinoa sniffled at Squall's bedside. "He was confident, smart… sometimes childish, but always so affectionate and sweet. Just by talking to him, I felt like I could take on the world."

"So, you two were… pretty serious?" Selphie asked, Squall recognizing she was indeed the one person among them without any long term attachment to Seifer.

"I don't really know," she moaned, raising her head from the sheets. "We met last summer… I was sixteen. We had so many fond memories together, and… I think… maybe it was love? I… I wonder how he felt."

"Do you still love him?"

"If I didn't, it wouldn't hurt this much!" she bawled, pressing her puffy eyes back against the mattress in heartache.

"It's… hard for me to think of many good memories of him," Quistis finally opened her eyes, a trace of watery residue spilling down her cheek. "I've seen some troubled children before, but he was _beyond_ troubled. I knew underneath it all he must have been hurting deeply, but no matter how hard I tried, he'd always refuse my help. You must have something really special to have gotten him to open up like that. Something… I could never have…"

The more Squall listened to the accounts delivered in the midst of the impromptu wake, the more his stomach began to churn. For better or worse, whether he were held in esteem or infamy, Seifer had left a lasting impression on all of their lives. Now, as they mourned his passing in sorrow, he had ceased to be a man and become nothing more than a memory, his legacy left to be twisted and remolded by each as they saw fit. That even Quistis and Zell so sincerely struggled to honor him was as monumental a testament as could be. Would Seifer have truly wanted to be remembered with such pity? It led Squall to wonder if Laguna's own teammates would have spoken so highly of him, as a poor, helpless man who had thrown away his life in pursuit of what he believed in. Would they have looked back on him with such melancholy, and allowed their very perception of him to be perverted by his tragic demise?

 _Will they… talk about_ me _like this when I die, too?_

The thought was simply too much to bear, as he clutched the sheets in fury. He would not stand to have his memory tarnished and twisted by those who knew nothing about him. There would be no eulogy for him, no gathering of his closest friends to trade stories of how he had affected their lives, and certainly no pity for a man who had lived his life without direction, without any dream for his future until it inevitably passed him by.

 _Not for me…_

"Squall?" Quistis' voice met his ears. "Is everything okay?"

"I won't _have it!_ " he exploded, thrusting the sheets off viciously as swung himself out of the bed. He swatted Selphie's figure aside with one hand as he snatched his gunblade from against the nightstand with the other.

"Are you _mad!?_ " the battered girl shrieked as he stormed around her and out the infirmary door, his mind ablaze with anger.

He knew not where he was going as he navigated the Garden halls in a furious haze, and neither did he care. All he needed was a place to be alone, undisturbed by everyone and everything. Corridors and faces flew by in a blur, none registering to him for more than a moment as he pressed on for what felt like hours, his free hand balled in a fist of rage. By the time he reached the main entrance and emerged onto the ornately flourished front pathway, he could not have possibly retraced his steps back even if he wanted to, the entire trek having passed in a blur. He strode on past the grand stone fountain toward the numerous flower beds skirting the edge of the academy. The sun had fully set by now, the illumination of the floating ring above the only light that allowed him to find his way out into the fields.

He finally settled on a patch of grass set on the out-most perimeter of the Garden grounds, and lay down upon his back in contentment. He gazed up at the starry night sky, appearing as picturesque as it had through the glass dome of the ballroom ten days ago, when life had still been so simple. He felt the cool evening breeze wash over his still body, the seething anger slowly but surely beginning to dissipate. And yet for what lingering comfort his newfound isolation provided, it could not mend the strain that undeniably ached upon his own heart.

Squall could not remember when they had met, or how, only that he and Seifer had been rivals for as long as they had attended Balamb Garden. The boy had been his nemesis, his tormentor, and the hotheaded devil on his shoulder that had helped garner them the dour reputation they had shared. And yet, more than anything else, he had been Squall's inspiration, the drive to push himself to become a better fighter with each passing day, and the one who had given him something to aspire for. He had lived his life by his own code of honor, on his own terms, the way Squall wished he could. He was at once his greatest enemy and his ultimate ideal, and now that he was gone, what drive did Squall have left to better himself as a fighter? What did he have left to give his life purpose? Seifer had found his, and gladly paid the price for his romantic dream.

 _Where… where is my dream?_


	15. Chapter 13 - Enter: The Sharpshooter

13

 **CHAPTER 13 – ENTER: THE SHARPSHOOTER**

 _The boy darted out the wooden door and raced down the small flight of stone steps, breaking onto the ivy-covered trail leading out of the grounds. The wisps of fresh pollen from the inimitable field of flowers stretching to the east met his nose, the sweet scent a bitter reminder of what he would leave behind on the path he had chosen. He knew nothing of the outside world upon the mainland, leaving him with no idea as to where he would start his search once he rowed his way ashore. It was surely no place for a young child on his own, but that no longer mattered to him. He had wallowed in his loneliness for long enough, growing more and more miserable with each passing day. For the familiar comfort that had given him such happiness, he was determined to travel any distance to see her again._

" _I'll find you, Sis… no matter what…"_

 _He stumbled on as fast as his little legs would allow, his tiny shoes rustling through the tangled underbrush which lined the cracked walkway onward to the gates. As he reached the halfway point by the large stone annex to his left, he abruptly ground to a halt as a tall figure suddenly emerged from behind its stone pillars, his gaze cast across the divide to the endless flower garden beyond. The young boy's eyes widened in shock as his sight landed on the pair of massive swords the mysterious trespasser held between his two hands, both stained with crimson as they glistened in the sunlight. In his left was a mighty greatsword, appearing as if out of a knight's tale that had been read to him, while his right bore a wicked curved scimitar. The man's clothes were torn and ragged, the limp tatters blowing in the faint breeze that swept along the path. As he turned his head at last in recognition of the petrified boy, his striking eyes staring right into his, the terror was at last fully realized._

 _His deathly pale face was a horrible wreck, bruised, beaten and scarred. The boy instantly reeled back as he took in the ghastly sight. He had been reminded countless times never to talk to strangers, and yet even if he had never been, the fear this man's grim and foreboding visage stoked in his stomach urged him to stay away all the same. He stood still as a statue for several moments, the eyes of the fearsome figure looking him up and down curiously all the while. Finally, his taut lips curled into a faint smile, and parted as he spoke in a weary tone._

" _Still looking for her, aren't you?"_

 _The boy's eyes shot ever wider as the voice echoed in his ears, his mind desperately screaming as a million questions flew through his mind at once. Who was he? Why was he here? How did he know where he was going? Was he the one who had taken Sis away? Why were his swords covered in blood? Whose blood was it? And would he be next?_

" _W-what-" he stammered in shock, his legs quivering before the terrifying stranger's unyielding stare._

 _With purpose, the man took a step forward towards him, his heavy weight crinkling upon the twisting ivy as he planted his foot. Scared beyond comprehension and fearing for his life, the young boy instantly spun around and bolted back to the house, screaming his lungs out all the way._

" _Help!" he shrieked to the winds, not daring to peer back over his shoulder. "Someone! Anyone! Help me! He's gonna get me!"_

 _He dashed at top speed toward the sanctuary of the bulky wooden door ahead, praying that his legs would make it there before the murderous pursuer caught up with him. His heart pounded in his small chest, feeling as though it would explode at any moment from the relentless panic that gripped him. He had nearly reached the flight of stone steps standing between him and salvation, when a sudden shroud of swirling black mist erupted from the ether directly in front of him. He skidded to a stop immediately, yelping in surprise as his feet entangled themselves in the brush and sent him toppling backwards onto his rear with a hard thud. The dark portal thickened quickly, growing in size at a rapid pace, until a second, equally horrifying figure appeared from its clutches._

 _A hunched woman shuffled forth from the nothingness, snarling viciously in rage as she clutched at her bloodied torso. The seeping vital liquid spilled down her stomach and melded with her tattered scarlet dress, dripping to the stone below and beginning to pool around her slender legs. The otherworldly yellow glow of her fiendish eyes stared ruthlessly into his own, piercing the depths of his very soul and freezing him to the spot. He could no longer find the strength to scream for help, much less move his shaking and awestruck body out of harm's way. He was boxed in on both sides, helpless to flee, his terror reaching its apex as the woman moved forward and his vision faded to black._

" _Stay away!"_

* * *

Squall's eyes shot open to the blinding glare of the morning sun high above, quickly shielding his vision with his arm as he groaned in surprise. The sudden brilliant light did little to cleanse the image of the eerie nightmare from his retinas, his breathing spastic and labored as his heart pounded frantically.

 _As if these damn Laguna dreams weren't bad enough…_

He lowered his raised limb and closed his eyes once more in the face of the all encompassing effulgence, reasserting himself in the moment upon the grassy patch that had served as his bedroll. He allowed the sunlight to embrace him in its warmth, slowly feeling the lingering panic dissipate as it had in the infirmary. Clearly the sorceress' display of power must have disquieted Squall far more than he had realized. The night terror notwithstanding, his sleep had been surprisingly sound despite the lack of proper back and head support. When considering that in the span of one day he had experienced more than what most SeeD operatives could be expected to face in a matter of weeks however, he realized that he would likely have slept like a log regardless of his accommodations.

He had hijacked a world leader's personal train carriage, and fended off a monstrous undead thrall aboard. He had commanded a team of three as they stormed a building brimming with soldiers, and escaped a city under heavy patrol to travel hundreds of miles north for refuge. He had observed the death of a man he knew nothing about through his own eyes, and awoken to learn the fate of another he had known all too well. It was simply too much for his mind to process at once, and even harder to accept that it was he who remained saddled with the burden of leadership through it all. It was far beyond anything he could ever have been prepared to face, and he could only hope that Balamb Garden would soon be dispatching a squad to extract them from their eminently derailed mission.

"Lovely day fer a snooze, ain't it?"

The twangy, easy-going voice from above snapped Squall from his musings. He gradually peeked open his eyelids to make out a tall silhouette leaning over his figure from behind his resting head, eclipsing the sun's glare directly above. The young man's sharp facial features and deep blue eyes slowly came into focus against the brilliant background lighting, his lips pursed in a playful smirk as he stared down at him. A black cowboy hat sat atop his disheveled light brown hair, complimented by a bulky khaki longcoat and a pair of brown leather chaps running down his legs. His undershirt was a muted violet v-neck, a beaded necklace hanging across his largely bare upper chest, and a bullet belt lined with shotgun shells strung along his waistline.

"Thing is," he continued nonchalantly. "Yer kinda snoozin' in _my_ spot."

Squall scowled in annoyance at the overly laid back nature of the implication, groaning as he raised his upper body and reached for the gunblade resting on the grass by his side.

"Whatever," he grunted as he shifted himself over further along the stretch. "Didn't realize this patch of lawn was reserved."

"S'all right," the cowboy grinned as he lowered himself to the freshly vacated spot, kicking up his right knee before him as he brought his forearm down to rest upon it. He wiped away the long bangs of hair which trailed down either side of his face with his free hand, Squall noting the remainder had been tied up in a ponytail.

"Hafta say though, I got a little excited when I saw that puppy lyin' next to ya. Thought it was the world's biggest forty-four fer a sec."

"Sorry to disappoint," Squall replied in a half-hearted monotone, clipping the sheath back to his entwined belts hurriedly. "I'll be going now."

"What's the rush? I didn't say ya had to up and leave. 'Sides, y'got good taste in aesthetics, even if swords ain't my personal cuppa tea."

"I came here to be _alone_ ," he insisted firmly, coming to resent the man's carefree and jaunty attitude ever more with each passing second. With the previous day's events and his arch-rival's execution continuing to weigh upon his mind, such enthusiasm and general laxness were two traits he had little patience for.

"Join the club," the cowboy countered, not seeming to comprehend the inherent contradiction present in his words. "I know better than anyone what it's like to be a loner, always waitin' in the shadows while the world keeps movin' on all 'round ya."

Squall turned his head back to the lackadaisical young man, his curiosity suddenly piqued at his words as he dipped his resting arm into his longcoat. He swiftly withdrew a large double barreled shotgun from his left side, the weapon's polished chrome build shimmering brightly in the luminescence of the sun. The elegantly carved maple grip was clasped by his fingerless black gloves with a palpable sense of reverence.

"It's the nature o' the sharpshooter," he spoke, his eyes washing over the firearm as if in an unbreakable trance. "Comes with the territory an' all. We hone our instincts fer years on end. We learn to live with the loneliness, an' to love the thrill o' the anticipation. The pressure o' the moment, that instant o' tension just before the trigger's pulled, to hafta focus your whole bein' into a single bullet… it's a rough life out'n the field, and every man faces it alone."

 _Maybe there's more to this guy than I thought?_

"But 'cha know," he raised his head and shot Squall a cheeky grin. "It's definitely got its perks. After all, the ladies _love_ the suave, mysterious types, am I right?"

 _Never mind._

"Hate to break it to you, but the thing about being a loner is that it doesn't work with two people," he reminded him, his disdain for the cowboy's character returning twofold at the juvenile remark. He knew nothing of what Squall felt, nor could he begin to understand the true reality of what it meant to be a lone wolf.

"Alright, mister moody," he cockily remarked, pulling back the left side of his longcoat and stowing his shotgun back in the leather holster sewn into the inside. "Man, a mopey attitude like that really takes me back…"

The sharpshooter trailed off as Squall redirected his focus ahead, gazing across the sprawling rocky expanse of the Monterosa Plateau. To his right, the cobbled pathway trailed out of the gated Garden grounds, snaking its way along a small stretch of open land to enter the forest beyond. The thicket of greenery in the distance along which he had collapsed the previous evening was flanked on either side by a stretch of mountains, leading north to the great lake that resided between the Gotland and Malgo peninsulas. They were but hills by comparison to the towering Gaulg mountains that lined the northern edge of the Alcaud Plains back home, but sufficiently stoked his nostalgia all the same. Likewise, the shimmering halo fixture hovering high above bore not the familiar cross-shaped crest or silver flourishes jutting out from the center, instead resembling a perfectly circular golden headdress. Craning his neck back to the Garden itself, its massive circular, scarlet plated figure extended across the campus for the better part of a mile in each direction. While it may not have been as tall as Balamb Garden's intimidating visage, it was no less grand, and perhaps even wider in diameter.

A mere three days away from home, and already he longed to return to his familiar daily routine, if such a thing could even be possible anymore. Squall recalled his last glimpse of the academy's towering, gleaming conch shell-shaped exterior upon their departure. He remembered the gut feeling that had come over him as it had rapidly shrunk into the distance, that when he finally made his return, things would never be the same. Already his instincts had been proven completely justified multiple times over. The tragic loss of his rival notwithstanding, the appearance of the sorceress was a paradigm-altering matter that would certainly change the very face of global diplomacy. With such a powerful ally at Deling's disposal, there would be little to hold back Galbadia on their quest for world domination.

"Say, where ya from, anyway?"

He turned back to face the cowboy's casually seated posture, meeting a steely blue-eyed glare from beneath the brim of his black hat. The easy-going smirk that had adorned his features just moments ago had vanished, as he now stared Squall down with an unmistakable intensity, and what seemed to be a hint of inquisitiveness.

"What does it matter to you?" he responded in defiance of the man's piercing look.

"Jus' curious. Yer _definitely_ not from 'round these parts, that's fer sure. Livin' here woulda whipped that attitude right outta ya. So c'mon, what's yer story?"

Squall's reluctance to indulge the nosey debaucher extended well beyond his general dislike of him. Just because they had been accepted into the Garden as refugees at the headmaster's benevolence, it did not necessarily imply that every associate on the faculty staff was privy to, or even welcoming of their imposition. The blame for the assault on the president may have been laid squarely at Seifer's feet, but it did nothing to wipe away their association with the group that had attempted a similar abduction that same morning. Under such circumstances, the academy's deep-rooted connection to the Galbadian military remained a significant cause for concern. All it would take was for one loudmouthed student to go flapping their lips to someone of authority, and they could very well find themselves back in hot water yet again.

True enough, Quistis had assured them that everything was under control, and it would ultimately be up to the headmaster's discretion should any conflicts of interest arise. While the cowboy did not appear to have a malicious streak about him, he certainly fit the bill for the chatty sort, despite his alleged claim of being a loner by nature. After a moment of contemplation however, Squall realized that simply admitting he was a foreign student was not an automatic implication of guilt. He could just as easily pass himself off as a transfer student, or otherwise being stationed in Galbadia per assignment. With this in mind, he figured there would be little harm in being forthright with the pestering young man.

"If you must know, I'm from Balamb Garden."

"Ah, that so?" the sharpshooter tipped his hat, his grin quickly reappearing. "So, you with the squad that jus' showed up this mornin'?"

"What?" Squall sat up straight, his attention instantly piqued. "From Balamb? What kind of squad?"

"I take it that's a no?" he responded, frowning slightly in confusion. "I passed 'em comin' into the main hall 'bout an hour ago. Three people, two guys an' a chick, an' pretty weird lookin' if ya ask me."

"What do you mean, 'weird looking'?" he asked impatiently. "How so?"

"Well, the leader looked pretty normal, jus' some run o' the mill guy in a white jacket. But the two with him… one was this really tall, tanned, muscly lookin' guy, showin' off his pecs. The other was this freaky lookin' girl with silver hair an' an eye-patch, real choosy 'bout her words from what I caught."

Squall leapt to his feet at once, turning on a dime and bolting back along the grassy terrain to where the main path bisected the grounds. There was no mistaking those accounted descriptions. Had they been sent by the administration to extract them?

"Hey!" the cowboy hollered after him. "Ya didn't tell me yer name!"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know!?" Squall called back to him, and charged on down the stone walkway leading to the mouth of the great red academy.

He sprinted on by the stone fountain in the entrance plaza, and passed through the gated turnstiles leading into the main atrium. His eyes swept over the large circular expanse, as he realized just how much of a blinding rage he must have been in the previous evening to not even remember it in the slightest. It was nowhere near the dimensions of its Balamb counterpart, as was to be expected considering the differing layout and general design of the institution. For one thing, the grand hall did not take up the entirety of the central structure, but rather acted as a large antechamber splitting off in each of the four cardinal directions. The left and right-hand halls opened to a set of grand corridors wrapping around the Garden's circumference, while the entryway opposite Squall's position stretched ever deeper into the core of the academy. The open space divided between the four intersecting walkways was dotted with benches and carefully trimmed foliage, kept healthy by the stream of sunlight shining through the domed glass ceiling high above.

True to his first impressions of the infirmary and its drab coloring, the general atmosphere that hung in the air was far more dull and workmanlike. Swarms of students milled about the breadth of the atrium, each clad in their dark black uniforms with red flourishes upon the sleeves and collars. Despite their sheer number both on the ground floor and the upper balcony which ringed the expansive room, the collective noise level that occupied the massive hall was remarkably very quiet. What few conversations persisted failed to rise above more than a muted murmur, an abundantly clear implication as to the academy's strict code of conduct. It was a welcome change of pace for Squall from the at times overbearing sounds of the Balamb Garden atrium, and one that he could appreciate more than ever in his currently overwhelmed state of mind. He tore off across the divide, blowing by the central directory to the opposing hallway. He had no idea where to even start looking, but knew that true to the sharpshooter's words, their appearances would certainly stand out amid the bleak homogeneity that surrounded him.

 _Why were_ they _the ones sent here? Has anyone told them about Seifer yet?_

Squall turned the unfamiliar Garden upside down for the better part of twenty minutes, scouring corridor after pristine corridor in search of the elusive duo. His journey led him to the bustling cafeteria, positively mobbed with students across its length, but caught neither head nor hair of them in line or seated at the innumerable tables. He passed by the gymnasium, the outdoor tennis courts, and even dipped his head into the vast, presently vacant auditorium on the second floor, only to come up empty-handed in his search each time. After several instances of forced backtracking to reorient his positioning, he gradually began to familiarize himself with the overall layout of the institution. It was nothing less than a cold, metallic labyrinth, with very few of the intertwining pathways featuring any significant delineating characteristics to mark the way. It was enough to make him feel a touch of sympathy for Selphie, who had shown enough difficulty finding her way around Balamb Garden.

After several more minutes of fumbling his way through the seemingly never-ending network of corridors, Squall turned the corner to see a brilliant stroke of blue pop into his vision against the dreary backdrop of dark uniforms. She stood by the side of the hall's restroom entrance, her short silver hair practically blending in with the metallic chrome plating of the wall she leaned against. Her lone functional right eye stared to the ground in apparent boredom, rising to meet Squall's as he approached rapidly from the side.

"Fujin!" he greeted her abruptly. "I heard you and Raijin were here. Are you here to take us back to Balamb?"

"Negative," she bluntly spoke with not a word more.

"Then what are you here for?"

"Orders."

 _Why did I think this was going to go any differently?_

"Hey, long time no see, y'know?"

He turned his head to face the doorway of the restroom, as Raijin's hulking figure emerged from the men's side. He quickly tightened the thick red rope tied around his baggy black trousers, his abs on full display courtesy of his unbuttoned indigo vest.

"What are you two doing here?" Squall asked fervently. "Fujin says you're not here to extract us."

"Nah, sorry," the muscled man shook his head. "We didn't even know you was here, y'know? We're jus' droppin' off orders from the Garden to this place's headmaster. Goin' by what he said, sounds like it might have somethin' to do with you."

"With us?" Squall wondered aloud. "What kind of orders?"

"You're askin' the wrong guy. We're jus' the poor saps that got sent to deliver 'em, y'know? Came all the way by boat, up an' around long-horn island up north. Whole trip took more than 14 hours to get here."

"Punishment," Fujin added.

"Yeah, this's what we get for coverin' for Seifer, y'know? Speakin' o' which, you heard anythin' about him? We've been askin' since we saw what happened on TV yesterday, and they've been keepin' us in the dark the whole time."

A lump caught in the back of Squall's throat as he momentarily debated whether or not to tell them. Surely the Garden staff had their reasons to keep the truth hidden from them, and he realized how much it would undoubtedly crush their morale to learn of their comrade and closest friend's death. And yet, to leave them entirely oblivious to the reality of the situation seemed a far crueler fate, and one that he could never bring himself to go along with. As much as it would hurt them to hear it, they deserved to know.

"You didn't hear this from me," he began, averting his eyes from their faces. "But Seifer… was captured by Galbadia. Word came in last night that he was tried for attacking the president, and executed."

" _What!?_ " Raijin bellowed, at once drawing the attention of every cadet traversing the hall around them.

"Lies!" Fujin firmly stomped her foot in disbelief.

"Yeah, no way! Seifer'd never let himself go out like a punk! He's better than that."

"I'm sorry," Squall attempted to calm their anger. "But that's what we heard from the administration here. He attacked the president, so it's only to be-"

"Hey, you two!"

The voice echoed down the hall from the direction opposite the one Squall had come from. His eyes skirted about the gathering of onlookers, and finally landed on a stern-faced young man in a white-striped jacket approaching, his brown hair casually combed to one side.

 _Why does he look so familiar?_

"What's with all the racket?" he chastised them. "If you're finished, let's get going. The trip back isn't going to be any shorter."

"Excuse me, sir?" Squall quickly performed the trademark SeeD salute, as the crowd began to disperse. "Squall Leonhart, gunblade specialist, first class."

"Leonhart?" the young man muttered in contemplation, before his eyes landed on Squall's forehead and subsequently lit up. "Oh! I remember you! From the exam, right? You were on the team we shared the vessel with."

 _So that's it._

"Aaron Writ, dragoon, first class," he returned the salute. "So, you must be with the squad that Headmaster Martine mentioned."

"About that," Squall maneuvered for clarification. "Raijin told me that the orders you were sent to deliver pertain to me and my teammates. What kind of orders are they? Is the administration going to be sending a detachment to evacuate us soon?"

"I don't know any of the details, so I can't say myself," Aaron replied solemnly. "All he said is that it's some sort of joint operation between Balamb and Galbadia, and that apparently your squad is going to be the one carrying it out."

"Joint operation?" Squall repeated, utterly perplexed. "But why us? We're still technically under contract for our current mission. I'm sure Headmaster Cid is aware of this."

"I told you, I don't have all the answers," he sighed. "But if that's what the orders say, then we have to abide by them. For now, you'll just have to stay put until the briefing. Feel free to ask Headmaster Martine anything you want when you meet with him. Whatever the case, best of luck. Fujin, Raijin, let's move."

Aaron motioned with his arm for the pair to follow as he pivoted and traipsed away down the hall. Squall looked between the delinquent duo, both hunched over in reluctance as they lingered on in dread of the long voyage home.

"Soon as we get the chance," Raijin turned back to face him. "We're comin' back here and findin' Seifer. He's not dead. No way in hell."

"Impossible," Fujin affirmed, and the two started on their way after their superior officer, soon disappearing around the corner up ahead.

Squall remained standing by his lonesome in the hall, left to wonder just how the two could remain so loyal to their leader even in the face of his confirmed execution. Even were it only from a select two people, Seifer had been a man who had commanded great respect indeed. It reminded him once again of Laguna, and the largely unspoken bonds he had shared with his own teammates, right up until the very end.

 _For all the good it did either of them,_ he thought as he marched back along the twisting maze. _Every man faces death by himself. Why should life be any different?_

* * *

The rattling of wooden sticks clashing with one another, and the scraping of steel against ice enveloped the wide expanse of the hockey rink. The practicing team upon the frigid surface swiped, skated and passed the puck with the utmost grace and ferocity, blazing frosty trails across the playing area. Beyond the academy's illustrious repute as an intermediary between SeeD and its own nation's military, Galbadia Garden's secondary claim to greatness came in no small part from its outstanding athletics program. Year after year, the student body had consistently proven themselves a force to be reckoned with in nearly every event featured at the annual Garden Sports Summit.

With the audience seats almost completely vacant, Quistis was at leisure to observe the off-season training from the best vantage point she could find. The chill of the arena washed over her body, the comforting cold barely eliciting a shiver. Her brown arm warmers and gloves notwithstanding, it was through her years of rigorous training in the school of ice spellcraft that she had long since built up a resistance to the freezing conditions. Yet no matter her indifference to the cold that surrounded her, there was little that could warm the frigid chill that had overtaken her soul.

The news of Seifer's fate had been a devastating blow to all the previous evening. Quistis could barely believe the report Martine had read to her, and had surprised even herself that she had somehow managed to maintain her composure in his presence. The boy had been a reckless fool and a fantastical dreamer, scorning every effort she made to support him for the sake of living by his own rules. She had recognized his antics to be those of a misguided and hurting soul deep down, and in light of that could not bring herself to truly hate him. He had shown such great potential, and very well could have made something of himself had he not been so brash and quick to action.

 _Or maybe if I'd been just a little quicker to action myself…_

Despite Squall's uncharacteristically sympathetic words to her back in Timber, it remained difficult to convince herself that it had not been her fault on some level. Perhaps he too felt similarly responsible for not being able to stop him, if his unbecoming rage as he had stormed out of the infirmary were anything to go by. Rivals though they were, there had been an unmistakable rapport between the two for as long as she had known them, something that went beyond mere words and only served to bring the best out of one another in training. They were two of a kind, in a class all their own, and now with Seifer gone, surely Squall had come to a similar understanding which was now tearing him up inside.

"Mind if I join you?"

She turned her head to meet Rinoa's solemn stare, her eyes still very clearly red and puffy from what must have been a sleepless night. For all the discomfort Quistis felt, it could never hope to match the weight of her sorrows.

"Of course," she motioned to the seat beside her, the girl lowering herself as she tugged her duster sweater around her tightly. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better, I guess," she quietly muttered. "I'm just trying not to think about it. It still doesn't seem real… any of it. It's like the whole world just went crazy all at once."

"No one could have predicted what happened yesterday in a thousand years," Quistis agreed wholeheartedly. "It'll be okay, though. The Headmaster assured me that he would get in touch with Balamb Garden right away to organize an extraction for us. You'll be safe once we arrive back home."

"It's not _me_ I'm worried about," she insisted with a sigh. "Zone, Watts, and the rest of the guys… I still can't believe I just left them all behind. I hope they're getting along okay, somehow."

"Your friend by the station was a real life saver," Quistis noted, the image of the goateed young man who had selflessly relinquished his train ticket to her flashing in her mind once again. "I hope he pulls through too, so maybe I can repay him one day."

"He likes dirty magazines," Rinoa casually hinted.

"I'll… keep that in mind," she responded with an embarrassed smile, taking small comfort that the girl seemed to be coming around enough to make such quips.

"I'm also worried about Squall, too," she admitted faintly, her words barely audible over the clacking of hockey sticks echoing throughout the domed enclosure.

"You and me both," Quistis sighed in exasperation. "I've known him long enough to understand that he doesn't handle pressure very well. He gets overstimulated easily, and usually ends up retreating into his own little world whenever it gets to be too much. And when it all finally boils over… well, you've seen that for yourself. But I've _never_ seen him just pass out like that before."

"I think… maybe I pushed him too far," Rinoa murmured.

"Zell and Selphie said the same thing happened before they even got to Timber. Whatever the reason, it has nothing to do with you."

"But I couldn't have been helping things," she pouted. "He made it perfectly clear that he thought my plans were poorly thought-out, and still I forced him to go through with them without even considering how he felt. Maybe he had a point. Maybe I was being unfair, and taking him and the others for granted. I… I really want to make it up to him somehow."

Quistis knew very little of the activities Squall's team had participated in prior to her arrival, but realized that Rinoa's desire to cheer him up was misplaced, regardless of her intentions. She recalled her own ill-fated attempt to approach him in the midst of one of his episodes the night of the graduation ball, an episode that Rinoa herself had perhaps been indirectly culpable in fomenting. It would ultimately be best for everyone involved if he were left to cool down on his own, as opposed to running the risk of reigniting the fire anew. She opened her mouth to explain, when the academy's signature four-tone chime sounded over the loudspeakers, signaling a school-wide announcement. The hockey team skidded to a halt at once upon the ice, kicking up sheets of frost from the sudden deceleration.

"Attention, please," the PA crackled to life. "Will the SeeD party from Balamb Garden, as well as cadet Kinneas please assemble in the headmaster's office? Repeat…"

"Is our ride here?" Rinoa pondered as she rose to her feet and stepped into the aisle.

"We can only hope," Quistis spoke, mimicking her movement and taking the lead. "Follow me."

The two quickly bolted up the steps to reach the exit leading back into the academy proper. Quistis navigated the winding halls with seasoned expertise, acting on muscle memory long since programmed from the training seminars she had attended two years prior. Like Balamb Garden, the headmaster's office sat on the top-most floor, accessible only by a private elevator situated at the very center of the complex. It required a special clearance key-card to operate, which Quistis had been bestowed along with her teammate's room keys the previous evening. After several minutes of twisting and turning through the throngs of students traversing the corridors, they arrived at their destination to find Zell and Selphie waiting beside the red, cylindrical metal doors.

"Glad to see you found your way here without any issues," Quistis commented.

"That's what the directory's for!" Selphie smiled innocently. "Lesson learned from Balamb."

"Any idea where Squall is?" Rinoa calmly asked the two.

"Comin' in at six-o-clock, looks like," Zell quipped, glancing around their figures.

Quistis pivoted around in unison with Rinoa to see their man of the hour approaching from further down the hall. He trudged at a leisurely pace, his head hung with his hands placed in the pockets of his leather jacket. His rage appeared to have subsided at first glance, though could just as easily resurface if provoked, as Quistis had learned the hard way.

"Best not to say anything until we know what what the situation is," she spoke in a hushed tone.

"Sure thing," Zell agreed. "So, you think evac is finally here?"

"You wish," Squall spoke up as he strode into the amassing squad, planting himself at the sides of both Quistis and Rinoa. "We've got new orders just dropped off this morning from Balamb. Some kind of joint op."

"Joint op?" Quistis echoed him, recalling Xu's mention of such an assignment as the topic of the emergency meeting two nights ago.

"Let's just head up. The sooner we know what we're doing, the better."

Recognizing his words to be true, Quistis stepped up to the doors and swiped the key-card through the reader positioned beside them. The curved metallic partitions opened at once to a spacious glass capsule lift, not unlike those which surrounded Balamb Garden's central pillar. The party of five piled aboard quickly, Squall jamming the door-close button as soon as the tail of Rinoa's sweater cleared the frame. They rose up the shaft in silence, the floor indicator gradually climbing higher until the lift at last slowed to a stop on the seventh floor.

The doors opened with a chime to reveal a stretch of crimson carpet leading across a sizable, ornately decorated expanse. The office, much like the rest of the institution, was far drearier in its color scheme by comparison to Headmaster Cid's own, and significantly less vibrantly illuminated besides. There stood no towering glass partition peering out across the vast landscape which surrounded them, but rather four much smaller windows, two on each side wall spaced evenly from one another. Set between them were an inimitable number of certificates and plaques, each signed or engraved as a commendation for the Garden's service to the nation of Galbadia. At the end of the flowing red carpet sat a large padded throne surrounded by elegant drapery, positioned behind an elegantly carved mahogany desk. A lone man was seated under the banners of Galbadia and SeeD which hung above his head, tethered to the miniature halo designed in the image of the Garden's flotation ring upon the ceiling. He peered up from the file that occupied his workspace, shutting the portfolio and rising to greet the party as they entered.

Headmaster Martine was a wrinkled middle-aged man with thinning blonde hair combed over the top of his head. As he collected the file from the desktop and circled the workstation to meet them halfway, Quistis took in his current regal attire, no less impressive than the burgundy suit he had worn the night before. A flashy dresser for as long as she had known him, he now stood before them in a striking navy blue robe with glistening gold linings, which aside from the dark pants and dress shoes was as egregious a disassociation from the room's gloomy atmosphere as she had ever seen him. His personal aides that had stood guard before were now nowhere to be seen, leaving him the grand hall's only occupant as he stopped before the gathered five. Quistis saluted on cue in tandem with her three accompanying SeeDs, catching Rinoa frantically falling into formation a moment later out of the corner of her eye.

"At ease," he commanded, the group lowering their arms to stand at attention as the lift to their rear whirred back down to the bottom floor. "Good day to you all. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, though I would wish it were under far less trying circumstances. We do not have very much time, so I will be as brief and direct as possible. At Headmaster Cid's request, you have been conscripted to carry out a very important and delicate operation. Trepe, I presume you are the commanding officer of this squad? Here are the official mission orders delivered from Balamb Garden. Please study them carefully."

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged the request, holding out both of her arms to graciously accept the portfolio.

While Squall had indeed been deemed the leader of his squad for the duration of the Timber operation, it was still she who held the highest rank among the four. Taking one careful look down the line of single-file operatives to her right, she noticed he seemed remarkably tolerant at having been relieved of his duty, and perhaps even grateful. Quistis received the file from the headmaster and promptly flipped open the cover to scan over the contents. Her eyes were instantly met by line upon line of black horizontal bars, more than half of the text upon the first page having been completely redacted.

"This will be no ordinary operation," Martine continued as Quistis proceeded to read what little she could. "It is one that many in the upper echelons of the Galbadian military, myself included, have been in talks about for quite some time now. The situation has grown dire, and we are left with no other remaining course of action. For the future of Galbadia, and indeed the world, we entrust this great responsibility to you."

Quistis' blood froze as she reached the meat of the documentation, forcing her to double and triple check that she had not read the mission objective incorrectly. It was absolutely unthinkable, if not utterly impossible for them to carry out, least of all in the manner prescribed.

"The orders say 'by means of a sniper'," she spoke up, a slight nervous quiver taking hold of her voice. "We do not have a specialist in that field among us."

"Indeed," the headmaster spoke. "It is for that very reason I have arranged for one of our own marksmen to accompany you… and here he comes, fashionably late as usual."

Quistis turned herself around with the others to follow Martine's vision over her shoulder. The lift's digital floor indication display ticked up from 6 to 7, the chime ringing out once more as the doors opened to reveal a tall, coated figure. He wore a dark cowboy hat over his wavy brown hair, and a set of leather chaps trailing over his legs down to a pair of black boots, which now casually strode along the regal carpet towards them.

"Son of a bitch," she heard Squall faintly mutter from down the line.

"Got somethin' fer me, chief?" the cowboy addressed his superior in a carefree, twangy tone of voice. He briefly swept his gaze across the assembled party before him, cracking a smile as his focus landed on the black-clad youth.

"Hey, chuckles," he smirked to Squall. "Miss me?"

"Ahem!" Martine cleared his throat forcefully to their rears. "I present to you Irvine Kinneas, the pride of Galbadia Garden's sharpshooter division. And might I add, he would be better still if he didn't _know_ he was the best."

"Aw shucks, chief," he feigned modesty, tipping his hat in acknowledgment of the remark.

Quistis knew not what to make of the man's eminently laissez-faire demeanor, but all the same trusted he was indeed the right man for the job. Martine's vote of confidence was reason enough to believe the man possessed the skill required, and he certainly exuded the cool confidence of a trained professional. It would take every ounce of both for them to accomplish the assignment ahead.

"Quistis Trepe," she stepped forward with a salute. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kinneas. I look forward to working with you."

"Rinoa Heartilly," the girl in blue mirrored her motions to the best of her ability. "Likewise."

"I'm Selphie! Nice to meet'cha!"

"Zell Dincht. Good to have you aboard!"

"… Squall."

The room fell silent as Irvine shifted his eyes once more across the five gathered in front of him. The cocky smirk from moments before had faded from his lips, his expression difficult to read as he stood fixed to the spot. He looked them all up and down carefully in the dimness of the room, his vision darting from Squall, to Zell, to Rinoa, to Quistis herself, and finally settling on Selphie's petite figure for what seemed to be a significantly longer interval. He raised his right eyebrow with intrigue as he continued to stare her down, Quistis noting the subtle signs of discomfort starting to creep over the giddy young girl's face.

"Nice… to meet y'all," he finally spoke, removing his hat from his head and bowing graciously to them, his ponytailed hair dangling to one side.

"So," Zell finally spoke up, turning back to face Martine. "What do we need a sniper for?"

"Take a guess," Squall bluntly responded.

"You know what I mean, smartass! Who are we puttin' out of their misery?"

"According to the documents," Quistis gulped, taking a deep breath in through her nose. "We're to assassinate… the sorceress."

The deathly silence returned, as the trio of Rinoa, Zell and Selphie stared wide-eyed in shock. Squall brought his gloved hand to his eyes in frustration, his head discouragingly hung in solemn acceptance. Irvine merely looked on with curiosity from behind; were there any traces of fear within the confines of his mind, his face betrayed not a hint of it.

"Correct," Martine confirmed. "You are all no doubt aware of the sorceress having been appointed the president's official ambassador. I am also sure you are aware that there will be no peace talks to be had with the ruling governments of the world, only threats. The very mention of a sorceress is still enough to strike fear into the hearts of many today, even all these years after the end of the war. The top brass believe this woman to be one who ultimately received Adel's power after her death, making her the de facto successor to that long line of bloodshed."

"So, we finally have confirmation that she really died?" Zell asked nervously.

"Unfortunately, no. We still have no explanation for why the war ended like it did, or why Esthar suddenly closed its borders. All we have to go on are the accounts from those closest to the president, who have witnessed this new sorceress' powers firsthand. They say it is unlike anything they have ever seen, a truly terrifying force beyond reckoning."

 _They're not wrong…_

"She is nothing less than an uncontrollable force of nature that must be dealt with swiftly. And so, the fate of world lies in your hands. That goes doubly for you, Kinneas."

"Don't worry 'bout me, chief," Irvine grinned, raising his arm with his index finger and thumb in the shape of a pistol. "I never miss my target. So, what am I bringin'? The Barrett? The Hecate?"

"Our contact in Deling City will supply you with a rifle," Martine answered his inquiry. "The specific details of the assassination plot will be explained upon your arrival tomorrow afternoon. The train tickets are enclosed in the rear of the portfolio, along with the address. Failure is not an option. That is all. Dismissed!"

On command, the newly formed group of six saluted the Headmaster in unison, and turned to make their way back to the waiting elevator. Quistis perused through the collection of documents as she stepped aboard the lift, reaching the back and finding the address and their contact scrawled upon the last piece of paper. Six pre-paid ticket stubs bound for Deling City were paper clipped to the parchment, due out of West Academy Station at 0700 the next morning.

"I don't freakin' believe this!" Zell exclaimed as the doors slid shut and they began to descend. "We ask for evac, and they send us back out to kill a damn witch!?"

"It's certainly not what I'd hoped for," Quistis agreed much more politely. "When the commandant mentioned a joint mission between Balamb and Galbadia two days ago, I never could have imagined _we'd_ end up being the ones to carry it out."

"Guess we were just in the right place at the right time," Selphie sighed as the lift slowed and the doors opened. "Maybe it's fate?"

"Gotta say," the sly newcomer quipped from the rear. "I'm thinkin' it might just be, too."

"At any rate," Quistis quickly cut in, drawing the group's attention back from Irvine's not so subtle advance. "Our train leaves at 0700 tomorrow morning. We're to head to Deling City, where we'll meet up with General Caraway at his residence."

" _Excuse me!?_ "

Rinoa's sudden outburst ripped through the hall, stopping the remaining five in their tracks as they turned back to see her horrified and wide-eyed face.

"Is something wrong?" Quistis gently asked.

"Well, yeah," the young girl sheepishly lowered her eyes, kicking her black boots across the linoleum floor aimlessly. "It's just… working with someone _that_ high up in the military… especially since I'm, you know, not one of you guys… it feels incredibly wrong."

"I understand," she sympathized, understanding what a moral dilemma it must have been for a resistance fighter. "But the general obviously has a mutual enemy with us in the sorceress, and we're going to need every bit of help we can get to see this operation through successfully. For the time being, just be careful not to say anything too revealing, and try to grin and bear it."

"Easier said than done," the girl muttered, her spirits evidently deflated by the dissatisfactory advice.

"Whatever," Squall flippantly blurted. "Let's just make sure we're all ready to go by morning. I guess I'm sleeping in the infirmary?"

"Actually, Squall," Rinoa raised her head at last, rummaging through the small pouch to her rear under the tail of her attire. Moments later she withdrew her room key, and held it outstretched towards him. "You can have my room… please. Selphie, Quistis, would it be okay if I bunk with one of you for the night?"

"Sure thing!" the former lit up, leaving the latter to ponder just where her motivations truly lay.

"Y'know, ladies," Irvine playfully teased, "Mr. Kinneas' room's got plenty o' vacancy fer the night. No reservation required."

 _Martine, just what have you saddled me with this time!?_


	16. Chapter 14 - An Unlikely Alliance

14

 **CHAPTER 14 – AN UNLIKELY ALLIANCE**

For the first time since departing Balamb Garden, Squall's sleep had been perfectly sound. He could remember no dreams at all, having slept comfortably in the bed Rinoa had unexpectedly abdicated to him. Though the mattress had been slightly more rigid than that of his still largely unused private dorm back home, it was a welcome upgrade from the grassy patch he had laid his head upon the previous night, or the gutted office space of the Forest Owls' now ruined headquarters. There had been no visions of dim-witted Galbadian soldiers, nor fearsome murderers and vengeful witches. Terrifying though it had been to experience vicariously, Laguna's tragic demise served to assure him that his time spent in the all too vivid dream world was at an end. Unfortunately, it did little to distract him from the feeling of dread as he had opened his eyes to the beeping alarm of his wristwatch, understanding that the true nightmare awaited him in the Galbadian capital.

Squall had made clear his skepticism of the sorceress legends to Zell in the midst of the Dollet field exam two weeks ago. Still he yearned for a sensible explanation to present itself, to reveal that it had all been a grand display of smoke and mirrors which had handily made fools of them all. There was none to be had, leaving he and his entourage tasked with performing a coup against a woman alleged to be in possession of powers bestowed by the divine. It was a plainly ludicrous responsibility to bear, made all the more bewildering when he considered the man charged with pulling the trigger. He had no other recourse but to take the headmaster at his word that their newest colleague was indeed the right man for the job. True enough, if his marksmanship could match his shameless boasting, then their success was all but secured.

The party of six had regrouped in the main atrium with the break of dawn, and made their way out of the Garden grounds in the direction of West Academy Station. It was little more than a mile-and-a-half long hike from the entrance along the ever stretching expanse of the Monterosa Plateau. In addition to their lodgings, the staff had been kind enough to supply them with a pair of large duffel-bags in which to store their weapons. Squall hauled his gunblade in the one slung over his own shoulder, while Selphie's nunchaku and Quistis' whip occupied the other Zell carried, along with the mission file. Irvine had opted to keep his shotgun concealed within the bulky frame of his khaki longcoat, buttoned closed to obscure the bullet belt fastened around his waist.

They had reached the station with time to spare, unhurriedly piling aboard the commuter rail bound northwest for Deling City. The tickets were strictly general admission, the two Garden administrations evidently not having sprung for a private cabin as on the intercontinental express. Squall had swiftly taken the first available window seat and laid back against the cushioned headrest for the duration of the journey, willing himself to ignore the audible antics of the self-proclaimed loner as he continued to vie for the attention of whichever of the three ladies would give him the time of day. None were biting, save for Quistis' harsh words of reprimand, which Squall appreciated in light of the utter tasteless nature of his advances.

 _Another one for the list of reasons the world has gone completely insane._

Over the next several hours the rail line had crossed the remainder of the rocky and largely desolate plateau into the verdant western Great Plains of Galbadia, trailing through the smaller settlements which dotted the land along the way. As with Balamb, Squall could be reasonably sure that very few students commuted to Galbadia Garden. It may not have been isolated on a small island nation, but the distance between it and civilization at large remained so vast that it made such notions all but completely impractical. It had been close to an hour before the first stop in the small countryside town of Belhelmel, and at least half that before the next at Elvoret. The tracks stretched ever onward for miles, crossing yet another time zone into the very heart of the super-nation's occupied territory.

After a long and dreary five hour slog, the train had finally pulled into the subterranean tunnels of the capital city's tram network. Working his way through the golden gilded and ornately decorated train terminal, Squall at last reached the apex of the exit escalator with his retinue in tow, and emerged into the midday brilliance of the station square. The wide open expanse was positively swarmed by freshly arrived tourists, those gathered around the large semi-circular stretch of pavement pushing and shoving for the next available cab. The tall lamp-posts which lined the surrounding walkways had been draped in colorful banners of blue, purple, orange and green, each bearing the gear-shaped Galbadian crest above a single line of printed text: ' _A New Era Begin_ _s.'_

In the center of the great bustling plaza stood a massive chromium fountain, positively dwarfing those Squall had seen in both Dollet and Galbadia Garden, a ring of ten now-extinguished floodlights trained upon its ever sloshing edifice. Far off in the distance, down the opposing main street towered a grand golden archway easily one-hundred feet in height, and not significantly shorter in width. Its mammoth frame glistened in the fast approaching noon sun, bearing numerous giant sculptures etched into the stone material all about its figure. The nation's crest had been overlaid above the spoked iron gates, the only apparent re-purposing performed to a structure that had doubtless stood for generations before its rise to power. Despite being Squall's first ever visit to the Galbadian capital city, the sight of the golden gateway was a remarkably familiar one. It was just as he had previously observed through the bay-window of the hotel room, by way of eyes not his own.

 _So this is where Laguna was from…_

"Talk about a commotion!" Zell commented, peering out over the sea of pedestrians before them as he momentarily placed the duffel-bag down. "Something big coming to town?"

"It's already here," Quistis replied, her own gaze trained to the banners that surrounded them. "And I've got a sinking feeling we're going to be on scene for it too. Let's just find the general's home. I'm sure he'll fill us in on what's going on."

"Where do we even start?" Selphie gawked all about in amazement. "This place is huge! We've got nothing like this up north!"

"Tell me about it," Zell agreed. "Balamb's all I've ever known. What about you, sniper-boy? You know these parts?"

"Been here a couple o' times fer sightseein'," the laid-back gunslinger confirmed as he tipped his hat against the glare of the sun. "If we got the time, an' ya treat me right, maybe I can give y'all a lil' tour. Don't got a clue where the general's house's at, though."

"I guess we get a cab, then?" Squall finally spoke up, reaching into his pocket and swiftly retrieving his wallet. "How much do we have between us?"

"Money's not the issue here," Quistis informed him, brushing her golden locks from her face in the gentle breeze. "There's no way the six of us are all going to fit in a cab."

"I won't mind none if somebody's gotta sit on my lap," Irvine grinned mischievously with a not-so-subtle wink.

"We can just take the bus line," Rinoa finally spoke dispassionately, ignoring the flirtatious jest as she pointed along the left-hand road. "There should be a stop a bit further down that way that'll bring us by the outer estates."

"Wow, sounds like you know this place pretty well," Zell lauded her surprisingly knowledgeable suggestion.

"It's been a few years. Anyway, let's get going. It should be two-hundred gil per person, assuming the rate hasn't gone up since."

She led the way down the station steps and around the mass of pedestrians, Squall and the rest following close behind. He quickly opened the velcro compartment on the side of his wallet and withdrew a pair of one-hundred gil coins, palming them as he slid it back into his pocket with his other hand. At a SeeD rank of ten, he was entitled to a bi-weekly starting salary of eight-thousand gil, but had yet to receive his first payment before having been dispatched on the mission to Timber. In light of this, he was left with a mere three one-thousand bills and some small change to his name, discounting the forged ID card which had all but served its purpose.

The party came to the bus stop within minutes, and waited several more for the red and black public transport to arrive. They filed aboard as it screeched to a halt, dropping their individual fees into the coin collection receptacle and taking their seats, Squall once again securing a spot by the window. As the scenery began to whip by beyond the glass in a never-ending streak of buildings, he was yet again struck by an undeniable sense of deja-vu brought on by the strange recognition of his surroundings. He had absolutely traveled upon these very roads as Laguna, all the way up to the central Galbadian military compound their transport soon passed by on its route.

There could no longer be any dismissing of his dreams as vividly conjured fantasies brought on by his own overactive mind. No matter the ever-so-slight discrepancies he noticed, the likes of several differing storefronts and advertising billboards strewn about the packed streets, the similarities of the city's layout were too close to have been imagined. The same intertwining network of perfectly paved roads, the same bustling brick-lined sidewalks flanked by all manner of two and three-level establishments, and even as the downtown district gradually gave way to row upon row of upper-class domiciles ahead, the same feeling of unease gripped his heart and refused to let go. What was the meaning of these dreams? What had caused him to experience them? Had Laguna truly been a real person? And why had it been him through which Squall had been presented such visions? Were they of the future? The past? Or some strange alternate reality which coexisted alongside his own? No one possibility was any less ridiculous than the others, and none presented anything approximating a reasonable explanation.

Rinoa rose to her feet as the bus finally pulled to a stop, motioning for the rest of the group to follow. Squall hoisted his bag up and over his shoulder from the neighboring seat, bringing up the rear as they stepped off in single-file onto the walkway. A series of towering private mansions bestrode either side of the wide street, radiant in the midday sun as the glare reflected off of their immaculately polished windows. Their architectural designs were the very definition of aristocratic, each the size of a small fortress and not wanting for any measure of regality. The chain of residences blurred together by way of the impassable iron fencing that surrounded their sprawling front lawns, forming an elongated wall of bars which continued virtually uninterrupted to the next block in each direction.

"Wow," Selphie gaped in awe as the bus pulled away down the street. "Talk about swanky!"

"Betcha we must stick out pretty badly in this part of town," Zell agreed in an unusually hushed tone. "So, what's this guy's address again?"

"107 Orichalcum Parkway," Rinoa recited, pointing her finger in the opposite direction to a manor further along the opposite side of the road.

The mansion bore a muted green color pallet, immaculately maintained with nary a trace of wear across its sleek exterior. The whole of the structure resembled two large castle turrets joined together by an elegant entryway, two crimson banners bearing the Galbadian crest extending from the opposing ends of the estate. The uppermost floors were lined with window upon window, and the turrets themselves chiseled out in the middle, giving way to matching outdoor balconies. A lengthy raised stone bridge bisected the grounds, leading from the large oak doors to the barred gateway which met the edge of the walkway they stood upon. It was indeed a home fit for a man of such repute in the nation's military forces. That he would so willingly risk throwing it all away should their planned coup be unsuccessful was testament enough to the danger the sorceress' presence posed.

"Damn," Zell quipped. "That's one hell of a pad."

"How do _you_ know the address?" Quistis stared Rinoa down suspiciously. "I don't remember showing you the mission file."

"That's not important," the girl in blue spoke lowly, her gaze still trained to the hulking mansion. "You all have a mission briefing to get to, right? There's no point wasting time just standing around out here, so let's head in and get it over with, already."

"I suppose I can't argue with that," Quistis sighed as she took the initiative, looking both ways for oncoming traffic before hurriedly jaywalking across.

The rest of the group followed in short order, striding up to the gated estate entrance as she pushed the intercom switch beside the engraved mailbox. Moments later the speaker crackled to life as a creaking elderly voice greeted them.

"This is the private residence of Galbadian General Caraway. Please state your business."

"Hello," Quistis spoke quickly. "We are a squad of SeeDs dispatched on behalf of both Balamb and Galbadia Gardens. I believe the general is expecting us."

"Indeed he is," the voice replied matter-of-factly. "You may enter."

The intercom sputtered out at once, as a metallic chink sounded a moment later and the automated lock upon the gate was disengaged. Squall maneuvered himself to the front of the pack and swung the iron bars ajar with one hand, stepping out onto the meticulously erected overpass. He trudged forward with purpose to the elaborately decorated oaken doors on the opposite side, glancing over the edge of the bridge to look upon the verdant flower gardens below. As he reached the halfway point, he suddenly felt a hand begin to tug on the sleeve of his jacket.

"My contract is still in effect, right?" Rinoa urgently pestered him as he turned to face her. The deep brown eyes that stared pleadingly into his own seemed far more wrought with anxiety than Squall had seen even following the battle with the sorceress' thrall.

"More orders?" he grumbled, not breaking stride.

"Well, if you're gonna put it that way," she frowned. "Look, whatever happens, just don't leave me in this house by myself, alright?"

"Why are you so being so paranoid? All you have to do is pretend you're one of us, like before."

"The thing is," she sighed as they finally reached the doors. "That's not really gonna work this time."

It was painfully evident to Squall that Rinoa was not being forthright with him and the others. There was far more to her reluctance at the prospect of associating with the general than she was letting on, and little by little, Squall was beginning to put the pieces together in his mind. The remainder of the group caught up to their position as the doorway slowly parted before them, revealing a wrinkle-faced, grey-haired and black-suited aide.

"Good day to you all," the elderly attendant bowed before them respectfully. "The general is currently in his study. If you'll please follow me, I would be happy to -"

His words were abruptly cut off as a frantic dog bark kicked up to his rear, growing louder as the sound of dashing paws on tiled surfacing drew closer at an alarming rate. Squall stepped back slightly to the side just before a blur of dark brown and white fur flew through the aide's legs, visibly startling him as he desperately clutched the door to steady himself. The hound dashed directly for Rinoa, its incessant woofing dying down immediately as it reached her and promptly sat. It began to whimper and whine excitedly, its bushy tail wagging a mile a minute.

"Angelo!" the equally delighted girl greeted the dog, bending down to playfully fondle its ears with both hands.

Now stationary upon the front patio, Squall could identify the panting hound to be of a shepherd breed. Its fluffy dark brown mane was offset by a brilliant white breast coat, with a third shade of chestnut flourish interspersed and running along its paws. He turned his head to see the utterly confused expressions of his squadmates, all trained to the unexpected sight before them in stunned silence. His three fellow Balamb operatives' mouths hung agape, while the lone sharpshooter stood to the back with his right eyebrow cocked in apprehension.

"Who's a good girl?" Rinoa baby-talked to the dog, stroking its back vigorously as it continued to whine. "Did you miss me? Is that terrible man treating you okay?"

"Young miss!?" the doorman reeled in surprise, confirming Squall's suspicions at last. "You've returned!?"

"Only on business, Buel," she sternly addressed him, standing back up straight with her hand still resting on the dog's head. "Just let these five in to see him. I'm going to take Angelo for a walk in the meantime."

"Uh," Zell stuttered, his face contorted in puzzlement beside Selphie's wide-eyed stare. "Would someone _please_ tell me what the hell is going on here!?"

"Right," Rinoa sighed as she turned back to face the group, her eyes downcast and face flush with embarrassment. "As you've probably guessed already… this is kinda my house."

"What do you mean, _kinda_ your house!?"

"Then the general is… your father?" Quistis breathed in astonishment.

"Well, I wouldn't call him _that_ ," the young girl derisively scoffed, pushing her way past them with Angelo by her side. "It's a long story, and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to tell you all about it. I'll see you later."

Squall watched as she retraced her steps across the length of the stone bridge with her loyal hound, not glancing back once as she neared the front gate. He had come to suspect Rinoa's privileged upbringing over the course of the last few days, particularly with regard to the sheer level of entitlement she had exuded. To have been the daughter of the most powerful man in the entire Galbadian military however was something he could never have anticipated, much less as a member of an active resistance faction. At the very least, it provided a more than adequate explanation as to why she was such a well-trained ballroom dancer.

"Looks like the wildfire's still burning fiercely as ever," the man named Buel spoke from the door, stepping aside and motioning for the remaining five to enter the mansion. "Please, come in, and feel free to set your luggage down. I will have them brought up to your rooms shortly."

Squall swiftly maneuvered himself and his bag on through the great partition into the main foyer, his eyes awash in the splendor of its regal effects as he placed it on the floor. Spotless marble tiling spanned the wide open entrance hall, surrounded by elegant gilded walls bearing all manner of crested tapestry and military paraphernalia. Rifles, swords and countless commendations hung aloft for all to see, their bodies completely free of any disparaging dust or grime. A pair of love seats sat to the left-most side of the hall beside a magnificent ingrained fireplace, its mantle decorated by many old photographs detailing family life and past service alike. A grand carpeted staircase stretched up before them to the second landing, splitting in both directions to the east and west wings of the estate. The manor's exterior had indeed not been an exercise in false advertising.

"I _can't_ be the only one here who didn't see that coming!" Zell voice instantly tarnished the room's air of decorum as his own bag dropped to the floor. "The father's a top military officer, and the daughter's part of an anti-government faction? That's bad… like _really_ bad!"

"It certainly explains a few things," Quistis agreed as she took in the lay of hall.

"I'm a lil' lost here," Irvine admitted as he finally slunk through the door. "But from what I'm gettin', she ain't too thrilled with what daddy does fer a livin'?"

"It is quite regrettable," Buel conceded, closing the door behind him. "She and her father have rarely seen eye-to-eye for as long as I have been in the family's employ. It's been almost three years now since she ran away from home. She's grown so much since then, but it seems her hatred for him hasn't changed one bit. May I take your coat and hat?"

"Thanks fer the offer pops, but I think I'll manage."

"At least we know what it is she's got against Galbadia now," Selphie hummed ponderously.

"After all that talk, she's just a spoiled brat rebelling against authority," Squall bluntly declared, crossing his arms contemptuously. "Is it any surprise she and Seifer get along so well?"

' _Got' along so well…_

"With age comes maturity, or so they say," Buel remarked offhandedly, as he strode diagonally across the foyer to a passage extending from the left hand side. "But let's not keep the General waiting. Please follow me."

The quintet hastily complied, trailing the aide down the ornamented hallway. As Squall followed, he reflected once more upon the fate of his rival, which even two days removed from the fact still refused to register as reality in his mind. It simply felt wrong to accept that Seifer had been reduced to nothing more than a memory, leaving him the uncontested gunblade specialist of Balamb Garden. It was a title he had longed for years to prove himself worthy of, only to be robbed of any satisfaction in the face of the circumstances. There had been no final confrontation, no ultimate day of reckoning upon which the superior fighter would be decided for all to see. In an instant, the sorceress had stolen away his only competitor right before his very eyes, and left him with nothing but the scar that ran between them to remember him by. It was the cruelest and most undeserved victory Squall had ever been bestowed, and as he followed Buel through the study doorway, he could only hope that swift vengeance would help assuage the feeling of emptiness in his stomach.

The marble tile gave way to polished hardwood, covered partially by a large lavender carpet in the center with a tea table and several chairs resting upon it. A small lit chandelier hung above, bathing the surroundings in a homey, low-key lighting. A small semi-circular alcove was etched into the wall beside the door, revealing an expertly sculpted bust of a young woman upon a pedestal within. Shifting his gaze further along the left-hand wall, Squall noted a striking painting of the same figure hung beside two large draped windows. Sitting at the far end of the room behind a curved wooden desk was a lone middle-aged man outfitted in a sterling black officer's uniform, his face stern as he pored over the stack of papers before him. To his rear were two towering bookshelves set into the wall, stacked with volume after volume of thick reference material. The general raised his eyes to greet them as they stepped into the room, his expression emotionless and haggard.

"Sir," the attendant spoke with a slight bow. "These are the Garden operatives that have been sent to assist with the plan. Interestingly enough, your daughter was also with them upon their arrival."

Caraway's eyes momentarily flashed at the mention of Rinoa, taking on a piercing quality as he scanned them all over intensely. The man's breast was decorated by a laudable amount of badges and medals, audibly clinking as he shifted himself and rose from his chair slowly.

"Thank you, Buel," he finally spoke in a low voice. "Please bring the limousine around to the rear at once."

The servant bowed again and backed out through the partition without a word, leaving the five face to face with the very head of the Galbadian army.

"So," he spoke gruffly, maneuvering himself around the side of the desk. "How exactly do you know my daughter?"

"We had been contracted to assist her faction in Timber several days ago for one of their 'operations'," Squall explained concisely. "Unfortunately, with the appearance of the sorceress, things quickly spiraled out of control, and she just happened to get swept up in the thick of it."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," the general sighed as he strode forward pensively.

"We had no idea she was your daughter. She gave us a completely different last name-"

"Heartilly?" he cut him off abruptly, turning to face the portrait hung upon the wall. "Her mother's maiden name."

Squall turned his own eyes to the painting, swathed in a delicate pink hue. The young woman was clad in a long flowing nightgown, seated upon a stone banister before a field of flowers to her back. A single wine glass was clasped within her dainty fingers, raised to just below her lightly pursed lips. Her solemn yet innocent face was indeed a beautiful sight to behold, and at the same time, somehow strangely familiar to him.

 _Well, it is her mother, I guess…_

"It's been twelve years now since she passed," the general continued as a noticeable strain began to creep into his voice. "It was a freak car accident. I was utterly destroyed, and all I could do was try my best to raise her on my own. She's been a problem child ever since, and things didn't get any better once she decided to start fighting against Galbadia. I'm not surprised she kept it a secret from you. As far as she's concerned, I'm just a pathetic old man. I can't even remember the last time she called me 'dad'."

"That's… that's terrible," Selphie spoke in a deflated and uneasy tone. "That kind of bond… isn't something anyone should take for granted."

"Not a day goes by that I don't wish it could have turned out differently," Caraway insisted, turning back to face them. "Nevertheless, regardless of whatever arrangement you may still have with her, I want to make sure she does not become involved in this operation."

"That's fine by us," Squall affirmed.

"I'm wondering if it might have been a better idea to leave her at Galbadia Garden," Quistis interjected from behind. "At least she'd be safe there."

"No," the general swiftly corrected her. "You made the right decision in bringing her to me. My intelligence has informed me that the sorceress intends to establish the Garden as her base, by force if necessary."

"There's no way that place's goin' down that easy," Irvine quipped. "An' besides, once I take my shot, it won't matter none."

"Good to hear you're confident," Caraway smiled faintly as he quickly circled the tea table and started to the door. "Let us be on our way, then. Buel should have the car ready. We'll discuss the plan once we're on the road."

The rest of the party pivoted to follow after their host, as he guided them down yet another series of winding corridors. All the while, Squall continued biting his tongue to force down the words that threatened to loose themselves from his mouth.

No matter their current objective, he, Zell and Selphie were still bound by their contract to assist and protect Rinoa, which placed them directly in opposition of her father's will. While he personally longed to have no further part in enabling the naive girl's fanciful dreams of rebellion, it was a strictly professional obligation that he had sworn himself to as a SeeD. There could be no guarantee that Caraway would not attempt to interfere once their own alliance inevitably ran its course, and that the group would be forced to act accordingly. After several moments of internal deliberation, he convinced himself that such matters were best left unspoken for the time being. There was nothing to be gained by jeopardizing the very agreement they would be dependent upon for the success of the coming mission.

They were led at last to the rear of the establishment, stepping through the exquisite bay doors onto a wide open back patio. A long stretch of pavement extended to the cast-iron gates at the end of the perimeter, flanked on either side by lush greenery. A lengthy black limousine sat immediately before them on the driveway, ready to depart, its tinted windows completely obscuring any view of the interior. Buel stood to the right-hand side holding the rear door ajar, as the General strode forward and down the four steps to meet him. Squall and the others quickly followed, ducking their heads as they filed into the luxury vehicle one-by-one and seated themselves around the length of the carriage. The car door shut behind them as Squall nestled himself between Selphie and Quistis on the left side. Irvine and Zell sat across from them, with the general at the fore by the raised privacy screen.

"Care for a drink?" he asked, motioning with his right hand to a mini fridge set into the side of the interior.

With all that he had been through in the last four days, Squall could not help but think that a heavy dose of alcohol was long overdue. Even so, his better instincts urged him to decline the offer; he would require full control of his mental faculties to properly assess the details of the forthcoming briefing. Surely the General himself was fully aware of this, and perhaps even testing them.

"Yer too kind, sir," the cowboy bowed his head in gratitude, and rose to his feet steadily as the ignition sprung to life and the limo began to move.

He stepped forward carefully and swung the small door open, falling to one knee to better examine its contents. No one else moved from their seats as the vehicle proceeded down the stretch of driveway. Squall gazed through the transparent glass partition to the General's rear, to see Buel's hand reach up to the sun visor and engage a single switch. Beyond the windshield, the decorated gates ahead began to part automatically, providing just enough leeway for the limousine to squeeze through as the hood reached its mouth. The vehicle swerved out of the gate and turned left at the intersection, forcing Squall to grab hold of the cushioned headrest in lieu of having no seat belt.

"Man!" Irvine swiveled unsteadily as he collapsed back into his seat with a bottled beer in one hand. "Losin' my footin' already, an' I ain't even had my first sip yet!"

"General, may I ask where we are headed?" Quistis quickly intervened. "Is there a reason we could not discuss the mission details in your study?"

"Wire-tapping, maybe?" Zell intelligently posited as Irvine beside him fumbled to pop open the bottle cap of his drink.

"No, nothing of the sort," Caraway assured them. "I simply believe that for the benefit of the operation, it would be best for you to have a look for yourself at the layout of the area. We are currently en route to the Presidential Residence's main square, at the very heart of Deling City. Tomorrow night, there will be a public ceremony and parade held to commemorate the government's alliance with Sorceress Edea. I take it you've seen the banners all around town?"

"Edea?" Squall echoed curiously. "So, that's the sorceress's na- ?"

A sudden clank of glass cut short his query, immediately redirecting his focus to the opposite side of the carriage. Irvine sat motionlessly with his arm hovering parallel to the ground before him, his fingers still bent inward in the shape of the bottle that no longer occupied their grasp. It now lay upon the dark carpeted flooring at his feet, the beer spilling forth from the opening as it began to sway with the momentum of the limousine.

"Oh, shit!" Zell swore as he quickly reached down over Irvine's thigh and snatched up the bottle, the sharpshooter remaining still as a statue as he did so. "What the hell is wrong with you!? Tell me someone's got tissues!"

"I am so sorry, General!" Quistis began to plead with their visibly rattled host, as Squall quickly opened the supply pouch on his belt for a set of bandages to help sop up the mess. He withdrew them promptly and tossed them to Zell, silently cursing the careless newcomer for having undoubtedly sullied their welcome along with the carpeting.

"Irvine, you need to apologize right now!" Selphie demanded.

"And while you're at it, have some common decency to take care of this!" Zell snapped, forcefully shoving a wad of bandages into his still outstretched hand.

The sharpshooter's eyes remained downcast beneath the brim of his black hat, trained to the floor in what appeared to be disbelief at his blunder. Slowly they raised themselves to meet Squall's stare from across the divide, returning an intense and quizzical look the likes of the one he had seen from the man upon their first meeting. His gaze shifted to Selphie and Quistis on either side of him in turn, then to Zell and finally General Caraway, before he at last opened his mouth to respond.

"Sorry," he apologized, tightening his fingers around the bandages and bending over to wipe up the spillage. "I jus'… never mind, it won't happen again."

"It's fine," the general closed his eyes in consternation, clearly peeved by the accident all the same. "Just make sure your grip on the trigger isn't as flimsy."

"Yessir," he acknowledged without any hint of his typical sly inflection.

 _And_ this _is the guy the mission's success is dependent on…_

"As I was saying," Caraway continued. "The ceremony will be the sorceress' first public appearance in lieu of the incident in Timber, and likewise be broadcast to the entire world utilizing the newly re-activated transmission tower in Dollet. Truth be told, my colleagues and I have already attempted everything available to us to ensure the event could not go forward. I even purposefully took it upon myself to dispatch the most imbecilic commanding officer I could find to Dollet, in the hope that he would manage to botch the entire operation. And the most unfortunate part of all is that he very nearly did."

We _very nearly did,_ Squall realized at once, meeting Zell's knowing gaze from across the divide. _Seifer… you've been proven right again. If only you could hear this…_

"And here we are," the general announced as the limousine gradually slowed to a halt.

Arching his neck back, Squall peered out the left-hand windows behind him with Quistis and Selphie, the latter turning herself around fully as she propped her knees up on the cushioned seats. They were parked on the curving edge of a large semi-circular plaza, easily twice the size of the one outside the station. Beyond the midday buzz of two-lane traffic which bisected the square horizontally stood a hulking iron gateway adorned with the Galbadian crest, and beyond that, a red and black, metal-clad estate roughly thirty feet in height. The cylindrical revolving front entrance was topped by a grand speaking podium upon the roof, backlit by a towering digital time display indicating the exact hour, minute and second in large red font: _12:55_ _:43._

Through the bars, beside the austerely designed complex, a nearly equally tall parade float poked its head above the sidelong brick walling. From what little he could make out from his current vantage point, it appeared to feature a strange array of raised lighting in the shape of a halo ringed around its peak. Armed guards stood stationed all about the perimeter, the silver plating of their outfits gleaming in the sunlight.

"So, she's in there right now?" Selphie asked with an unnerved twinge in her voice.

"As far as I've been informed," the general confirmed. "Once the ceremony has concluded, the parade will begin. That is when the operation will officially commence. You will be split into two teams: the sniper team, and the gateway team. The sniper team will be positioned amid the crowd by the front of the Presidential Residence. The gateway team… well, the name says it all."

He motioned to the stretch of windows lining the right side of the limousine's body, beside Zell's head. Peering through the glass, past the swathes of pedestrians traversing the sidewalk, Squall could see the same golden archway that towered above everything in sight further down the southern stretch of road. The various statues peppered about its body appeared even more striking at such a narrow distance, some humanoid, others bearing the shape of vicious beasts.

"The gateway team will enter the interior and standby at the mechanism controlling the gates."

"We're gonna trap her inside!?" Zell asked incredulously. "With the kind of power she's got, surely that's not gonna hold her back."

"It is merely a diversionary tactic to draw her attention away from the sniper," Caraway calmly explained. "Once Deling and the sorceress have finished their respective speeches, the sniper team will maneuver along the crowd to an extraction point further down the west-side street. Two of my men will be manning a patrol car, which will pick the team up, and bring them into the residence as soon as the gates open. From there on, it will be up to you to make your way inside to the upper level. In the corridor leading from the sorceress' room out to the speaking podium, there is a hatch that leads into the retractable clock carousel. You will find the sniper rifle waiting for you there."

"And then we play the waitin' game?" Irvine inquired.

"Precisely," Caraway responded. "The parade float will follow a very specific route set to a very specific time frame. Once it leaves the Residence, it will proceed straight on through the gate-"

"And that's when we spring the trap!?" Selphie blurted out suddenly, startling Squall beside her.

"No, not yet. It wouldn't allow the sniper team nearly enough time to get into position, and the float would be facing the opposite direction, regardless."

"Oh," the young girl blushed embarrassingly. "Yeah… whoops!"

"The procession will continue south down the main avenue to the station square and turn right. It will make its way back in a semi-circle arc to the Residence from the west side, and proceed straight through the east end of the city until it comes back around to reach the station once again. From there, it will begin its return trip back up the roadway and under the arch. By this point, if everything runs according to schedule, it should pass directly under just as the clock strikes 2000 hours. Then, and only then, do we drop the gates. The carousel has been programmed to rise out of the roof at the stroke of the hour, as a flashy bit of fan-fare to 'welcome' the sorceress back to the residence. And of course, it will be carrying the sniper team up with it."

"How are you so sure the float will pass under the arch at _exactly_ 2000?" Squall asked skeptically. The ludicrously tight timing required for such a plan rivaled that of the Forest Owls' own impractical train re-connection ploy.

 _Don't tell me this is where she gets it from…_

"Never underestimate the Galbadian military's dedication to rigid punctuality," the general passionately replied. "If the float is scheduled to pass underneath at that exact moment, it _will_ happen. Now, the sniper team will be a party of two, comprised of the sharpshooter and the operation leader. If the plan fails for whatever reason, or should the sniper miss, the gateway team will be charged with carrying out a direct assault on the sorceress. Should that fail as well, the duty will fall to the leader alone, as the last remaining hope for the operation's success. Please decide amongst yourselves who will take up that position."

"Geez," Selphie moaned. "Talk about a huge responsibility, huh?"

"I think the obvious choice is pretty clear, though," Zell spoke up, shifting his eyes to Quistis. "Instructor, you're the highest ranking here, and the one with the most combat experience out of all of us."

"I understand," she solemnly nodded her head, her face grim at having been shouldered with such a heavy burden.

" _I'll_ be the leader," Squall declared on the spot, surprising even himself as the words left his mouth of their own accord.

His trust in Headmaster Martine's endorsement had been all but shattered, leaving him with no confidence whatsoever in their sniper's supposed prestige. The womanizing cowboy's numerous suggestive advances notwithstanding, Squall absolutely refused to allow him any benefit of the doubt in executing such a high stakes operation without proper surveillance.

"Are you sure that's such a wise idea?" Quistis stared him down intently, the implication present in her eyes unmistakable.

"No," Squall admitted cynically as he rose from his seat and stumbled his way to the door. "And frankly, I don't care anymore. I'm going for a walk. See you back at the mansion."

He opened the door and stepped out onto the densely populated sidewalk, as several onlookers proceeded to survey him up and down suspiciously; his black casual wear was no doubt a stark contradiction to the vehicle he had just emerged from. He proceeded to navigate his way on through the throng of bystanders, not knowing where he was going, but in desperate need to clear his head of the mounting anxiety which still gripped him tightly.

"Wait," a hand firmly caught his shoulder, forcing him to a stop. "If you need some time to yourself, go right ahead, but I want you to be honest with me for once. Are you _sure_ you're going to be okay to go through with this? We can't have you suddenly passing out in the middle of such a delicate operation."

"I'll be _fine_ ," Squall grunted through gritted teeth. "It's not going to happen again. I can guarantee that."

It was not entirely untrue if Laguna's death was to be believed, although it did nothing to discount the possibility that he could just as easily be thrust into a completely different person's body at a moment's notice. The truth of the strange visions remained a completely unknown entity to him, leaving him with nothing but faint hope that the last time had indeed been exactly that.

"Still, I want you to promise me that you'll let Dr. Kadowaki take a look at you once we're back home."

"If that'll make you happy, then fine, I promise. Now let me be."

Quistis' hand slowly loosened its grip upon his shoulder, as he continued trudging onward toward the towering golden archway before him. The stage was set, and the players assigned their roles. All they could do now was perform their parts as instructed. It was not a SeeD's place to question why, but deep in Squall's heart, he had uncovered a reason all his own.

 _Seifer… this one is for you._


	17. Chapter 15 - Honest Intentions

15

 **CHAPTER 15 – HONEST INTENTIONS**

"Quite the temperament on that one," Caraway remarked as Quistis ducked her head back inside the limousine and closed the door behind her. She seated herself once more as the general rapped on the privacy screen to his rear, and the car slowly began to turn back along the west-bound stretch of road.

"Glad I ain't the only one who thinks so," Irvine muttered, his hands clasped before him in what appeared to be contemplation.

"Just you and everyone else back at Balamb," Zell confirmed for him, clinging to the seat cushioning as the vehicle completed its U-turn. "Needless to say, he's not exactly the most popular around campus. No real friends at all, as far as I know."

"So, Squall's always been like this?" Selphie meekly asked, her expression uncharacteristically mopey. "That's just… really sad. He must be so lonely."

"Unfortunately, I don't think it even bothers him anymore," Quistis responded, her words coming out colder in tone than even she had anticipated. "I've tried for years to offer him encouragement, to help him realize that there's at least _someone_ he can talk to if he's so starved for emotional support. It's been so long I can barely even remember when it all started. But no matter how hard I try, he always just turns me away and says he prefers to be alone. And after all this time, I'm finally starting to think that's just who he is. If he does feel lonely, he has no one to blame but himself."

It pained her to admit, but such was the sad reality she was now forced to come to terms with. Over the years she had practically begged Squall to open himself up to her, to help her understand why he insisted so vehemently on keeping himself isolated. Perhaps however, it was something she could truly never hope to understand. Perhaps it was a behavior ingrained so deeply into his very personality that it could never be overcome, no matter how hard she tried to help him. And ultimately, so long as he refused to let himself be helped, she knew her efforts were all for nothing. The events of the last few days had surely only served to reinforce his detachment, particularly in the wake of his rival's sudden demise.

"Still," she continued. "Considering everything that's happened, I can't say I blame him for wanting some alone time right now. It's obvious that Seifer's death shook him up much more than he's willing to let on."

"Hold up," Irvine's head shot upward. "What's goin' on now?"

"Our…" Zell quietly started, pausing as he searched for the right words to explain. "Well, I can't really say he was a 'friend', but… one of our guys attacked the president on the broadcast a couple days ago. I'm sure you must've heard about it. Anyway, we were there, and the sorceress appeared and abducted him right in front of us. We later heard a report from your Garden's headmaster that he was tried and executed that same day. It's been… well, really rough on us all."

"Even on you?" Selphie asked him with a hint of empathy. "Even though you hated him so much?"

"It's true, I didn't like the guy at all on a personal level. But still… he was one of us. I've been thinking really hard about it these last couple of days, and I feel like… like if there's any chance of getting payback for the sacrifice he made, I'll gladly take it. And with any luck, tomorrow'll be the night it all comes together."

Zell shifted his head sideways to Irvine's figure, meeting his eyes with a staunch look of determination.

"It's all on you now, man," he grimly spoke. "Whatever you do, don't miss."

The interior fell silent once again, not a one among the five present daring to so much as clear their throat. Only the hum of the limousine's engine remained as Quistis darted her eyes from person to person about the length of the carriage. Zell had absolutely hit the nail on the head as far as she was concerned. Although her own tolerance for Seifer's attitude had boiled over more times than she could count through the years, not least of which being their confrontation in the midst of the Timber station, she too knew in her heart that he had not deserved the untimely end he had been victim to. She was sure Squall felt the same, which had no doubt played a significant part in him stepping up to lead the operation.

"Ya say it like that's all there is to it," Irvine finally responded, his voice absent its usual cocky intonation. "Would _you_ be able to take that kinda shot so easy? 'Specially if it's at someone like… _her_?"

"What, after all that big talk, you're not getting cold feet, are you?" Zell joshed him. "You heard what your headmaster said. She's not just a threat to Galbadia, but the entire world. Pull the trigger, save the lives of millions. Sounds pretty cut and dry to me. Hell, you'll probably go down in history when it's all over."

"Indeed," General Caraway at last interrupted as the vehicle began to slow to a stop before his front gate. "At any rate, I expect you will ensure any dysfunctional elements among your team are dealt with before tomorrow night."

"Yes, sir!" Quistis saluted as she rose and began across the carriage to the rear door. She opened it gingerly and ducked her head to clear the frame, placing one black-booted foot onto the brick-laden sidewalk. She raised her eyes from the ground as she maneuvered herself out fully, shielding her vision against the glare of the sun, and finally noticed the streak of cerulean standing beside a dark furred dog at the mansion's gateway.

 _And speaking of dysfunctional…_

"Looks like _you're_ getting the VIP treatment," Rinoa scoffed as Zell and Selphie filed out of the vehicle to stand beside her. "So, what's the deal? Do we have a plan?"

" _We_ do," Quistis confirmed with an audible tinge of tenacity. "Your father doesn't want you getting involved, and frankly I have to agree with him. Please be understanding."

"I'm already in deep enough as it is!" she fired back, as Buel circled the front of the limousine and came to a stop beside its hood. "If there's anything I can do to help, then let me! You're not the only ones with an axe to grind against that woman."

"It's-"

"It's none of your concern," Caraway's rugged voice cut through the light breeze from behind.

Quistis turned back to see him emerge from the car after Irvine, his boots scuffling on the cement as he stood up straight. He stared down his daughter intensely from across the divide, his eyes bearing an austere gaze lightened only by the faintest hint of compassion. Try as he might to hide it, she could tell he was undeniably taken aback at seeing her for the first time in three years.

"This is a serious mission with serious repercussions," he continued with nary a pause to collect himself. "You are not a trained soldier, nor a SeeD. It is for your own safety, and the success of the operation that I am ordering you to stay out of this. You have no business whatsoever in this matter. Do I make myself clear?"

The ensuing silence lingered for a long, pregnant pause, broken only by Angelo's heavy panting by Rinoa's side. The young girl hastily shifted her downcast eyes away from those of her father, and hollowly eked out a clearly reluctant reply.

"As you command, _general_ ," she muttered irately, and slowly pivoted away. The dog remained stationary by the gateway, its neck craned back as it watched its owner trail off on her own down the opposite end of the street.

"You..." Caraway started up, a noticeably gentler tone beginning to creep into his voice. "You look… so much like your mother now. If only she were here."

"She'd just be _so_ proud, wouldn't she?" Rinoa called back, halting in her tracks to glance over her shoulder. "And have you ever wondered what would she think about _you_ , and the things you stand for?"

"She would have the sense to realize that some actions are necessary for the greater good of the nation," he maintained. "She loved me despite it all. And she would love you, as I still do, regardless of the path you've chosen."

"She never really loved you," the girl in blue venomously spat. "That's just what you tell yourself to save face, and you know it."

Quistis looked on in utter shock as the vicious family quarrel raged before her. Glimpsing briefly to either side, she could see the wide-eyed faces of her three comrades likewise transfixed to the unfolding confrontation. Rinoa's biting words toward her father were absolutely reprehensible; the amount of self-righteous anger bubbling beneath the surface was on a level far beyond almost any she had ever encountered. The only parallel she knew of that could possibly compare was the vitriol with which Seifer had routinely scorned and disrespected her own authority. Upon recognition of this similarity, she could at once feel genuine empathy for the patience-testing situation Caraway presently found himself in the midst of. Perhaps they had in fact been two of a kind, as Squall had offhandedly remarked. All she knew for certain was that in the face of such belligerence towards her well meaning, if stern father, Quistis could feel her sympathy for the girl's cause waning faster with each passing moment.

The general stood in place, his face now a harrowing mask of frustration and impatience. The expression alone spoke volumes, and yet Rinoa appeared to remain willfully ignorant of its implication. She turned her head back to face the opposite direction, raised her gaze to midday skies above, and softly began to sing.

" _Whenever I played my songs_

 _On that stage, on my own_

 _Whenever I spoke my mind_

 _Wishing someone would hear_

 _I saw you smiling at me_

 _Was it real, or just my fantasy?_

 _You'd always be there in the corner_

 _Of that tiny little bar"_

Slowly, she turned back to face him, a knowing smirk splayed across her lips.

"Doesn't sound like you, does it?" she taunted him with a cheeky wink.

Caraway's face contorted in rage as he snapped his attention to Buel, and angrily motioned for him to unlock the gates. The aide complied immediately, as he practically bolted around the hood of the limousine, jammed his key ring into the lock set into the iron door, and twisted it open. Satisfied with her apparent victory, Rinoa carried on down the street with determination, not looking back once as she made her way across the adjacent intersection. Quistis remained frozen to the spot, eyes darting back and forth between the estranged father and daughter in confusion as to what exactly had just transpired.

"The four of you are dismissed," the general spoke to them at last, evidently taking great strain to rid his voice of the coarse timbre it had adopted. "If you wish to rest, please speak with Buel, and he will show you to your rooms. Otherwise, I will see you at dinner tonight. We will assemble in the foyer tomorrow evening at 1800 hours for final preparations. Let your 'leader' know when you see him again. That is all."

Their host quickly stormed across the raised stone bridge, his aide and the dog at his heels the entire way. The four remained standing at the gates in disorientation, glancing between one another awkwardly for several long moments before Zell finally spoke up.

"Well, that was… heated."

"Totally uncalled for on her part, if you ask me!" Selphie agreed. "How does she expect to change his mind if she's not even willing to listen to what he has to say?"

"It ain't 'bout changin' his mind," Irvine piped up. "She's jus' lookin' to take everythin' out on him, however she can. There's no rhyme or reason to it, jus' gettin' angry and lashin' out 'cause it's all she knows how to do."

"Unfortunately, you might be right," Quistis commented, still reeling from the fight's rapid escalation. "It didn't impress me much, that's for sure."

"Best not to get caught in the middle," Zell suggested. "Anyway, I'm gonna head out and take a look around town. Gotta see the sights while we've got the time, right? Anyone wanna tag along?"

"You bet!" Selphie pumped her fist. "Let's tear it up!"

"I… suppose I wouldn't be against having a stroll," Quistis hesitantly affirmed, turning to the sole remaining holdout. "What about you? You said you'd be willing to show us around before, right?"

"Yeah," Irvine sighed, his heart clearly no longer invested in the proposition. "Sorry, but I'm gonna hafta walk that back. Jus' not feelin' it right now. I'm thinkin' chuckles mighta been on to somethin' 'bout needin' some alone time… to mentally prepare an' all."

"Fair enough," Zell replied, appearing as disquieted as Quistis with regard to their sniper's abrupt change in mood. "Guess we'll see you for dinner then. Just… don't psyche yourself out _too_ much, alright? We're counting on you."

"No pressure, huh," he muttered as he turned to step on through the estate gateway, the tails of his jacket swaying in the light breeze behind him.

Quistis looked on as he slowly crossed the bridge to the mansion doors, recognizing the absence of the boisterous facade that had so quickly fallen away. The responsibility was indeed a grave one, as would be the resulting aftermath regardless of if he should succeed or fail. They had only Caraway's support to depend upon to ensure their ploy would not be uncovered, and even should everything go exactly as had been planned, the president would certainly seek retaliation for such a coup. There had to be some form of contingency in place to secure their exit, which Caraway had simply neglected to inform them of. Surely the Garden administration were not expectant that they become martyrs for the cause.

"Instructor!" Zell called from Selphie's side further down the walkway. "Are you coming?"

 _Just stick to the directive,_ Quistis reminded herself as she hurried to catch up with the two. _Orders are orders. It's just like Xu said: That's the reality of working for a mercenary organization…_

* * *

Squall raised his bowed head to peer around him at the passing flow of pedestrians, collecting his thoughts as he slowly grew to his feet from the street-side bench with a grunt. The lengthy stream of people stretched in either direction along the main avenue, from the station square far down the right-hand path, to the imposing archway immediately to his left. He stood motionless amid them all in detachment for several moments longer, his eyes fixed forward absentmindedly. None paid him any heed as they navigated the path to his front and rear, oblivious to the storm of disparate thoughts whipping through his mind. He quickly swiveled to merge with the north-bound stream of people and began making his way back in the direction of the Presidential Residence.

He had traversed the city's central road from mouth to source and back again, his haze-stricken thought process attempting to work itself out as he wandered with no destination. The death of his rival ate away at him. The power of the sorceress unnerved him. The unyielding nagging of his former instructor irritated him. The unremitting conflict between his two concurrent employers infuriated him. And their much lauded sniper's devil-may-care attitude left him with no more confidence in the general's plot than Rinoa's had. What had begun as a basic assignment to assist a woefully under-prepared resistance faction had spiraled completely out of control in less than a week. Any and every single development in the intervening time had only progressed their situation to an ever more precarious endpoint. As he passed along the outside of the grand archway that was to serve as their elaborate trap, he had no reason to believe this time would end any differently.

The large retracted gates hung high above on either side of the golden semi-circular apex, poised and ready to fall. True to Zell's concern, the makeshift cage would not hold back the full might of the sorceress' wrath should she choose to unleash her power in retaliation. Irvine's window of opportunity would be a narrow one indeed, in both a figurative and literal sense if the gap between each iron bar were any indication. The notion of trusting the fate of the entire mission to him was ridiculous, as was the fallback measure of directly charging the sorceress should he miss. Even with the power of his Guardian Force to rely upon, Squall understood it would surely be a suicide assault. Still he would be bound by his duty as a SeeD to carry out his orders as instructed, no matter their impracticality. It was for that very reason he had forced himself to take on the burden of commanding the operation, to ensure such measures would not be necessary. More so than the responsibility of safeguarding the world which Martine had entrusted to them, he now had his own stake in the success of this assassination plot. He could not let Seifer's sacrifice be in vain.

He re-emerged into the bustling expanse of the Presidential Square, and circled the roadway around to the left-hand side. Craning his neck as he fought to dodge incoming pedestrians and patrols alike, he crossed the western intersection to the opposite side and peered through the cast-iron gateway. The massive parade float sat within the confines of the grounds, swarmed on every side by a large congregation of technicians. The wide raised platform featured a tall gold-bedecked throne set against a voluminous back piece designed in the image of white and black angel's wings. The illuminated halo structure flickering above extended outward from the top of the seat, comprised of an elevated LED light display. Clearly no expense had been spared at the behest of either Deling or his ambassador; the fantastical yet regal design was truly one fit for a queen.

"Squall?" a voice to his side suddenly broke his concentration. He reflexively swiveled his head to meet an all-too-familiar face framed by six caramel highlights.

"Funny bumping into you here, huh?" Rinoa smiled in the midst of the passing crowd that surrounded them. "So, what're you up to? Any reason you're not with the others?"

"I… needed some time to myself," he muttered, hoping she would take the hint.

"Yeah, me too," she sighed. "You can only be around _him_ for so long before you need to get some fresh air, am I right? Though… I guess everything else that's been going on can't be helping."

"Glad you understand," he dismissed her, backing away slowly. "See you-"

His momentum was abruptly halted as he collided with another figure to his rear, startling him as he struggled to regain his balance.

"Hey!" an irritable voice chided him from behind.

Squall quickly spun around from Rinoa's look of concern to see a helmeted Galbadian infantryman stumble and slowly reorient himself. He raised his visor to Squall's visage, and opened his mouth to give him a stern reprimand.

"Watch where you're going, damn punk ki-"

The man cut himself off in mid-sentence, his mouth remaining agape as he simply stared at Squall for several moments in silence. The helmet shielding his eyes rendered his expression impossible to read, but Squall understood such a sudden reaction could not bode well, and quickly readied himself to bolt at a moment's notice.

"S-sir!" the soldier quickly righted himself, snapping into a salute before him. "I'm terribly sorry! Please forgive me for jumping to conclusions so quickly. Rest assured, it will not happen again. Preparations for tomorrow night are coming along swiftly. If there is any other way I can be of service to you, please let me know."

Squall's feeling of dread instantly dissipated, to be replaced by one of befuddlement at the infantryman's bizarre change of demeanor towards him. The idea that he could be mistaken for an out-of-uniform superior officer at his age was ludicrous, and yet somehow this soldier appeared to believe he held authority over his position. Perhaps he was one of Caraway's loyalists; the General had made mention of a pair of men who would be charged with escorting him and Irvine into the Presidential Residence.

"As you were," he ordered with as firm a tone as he could muster in his confused state.

"Yes, sir!" the soldier released his salute and quickly continued on his way across the intersection to the opposite end of the square. Squall pivoted back to face Rinoa beside him, whose own expression seemed to echo his own sentiments precisely.

"What was that all about?" she asked him.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he halfheartedly replied as he turned to take his leave. "I'll see you around."

"Hold on, Squall!"

He felt her hand frantically catch his from behind, her slender fingers wrapping firmly around his own. He glanced back over his shoulder in reluctant acknowledgment, and saw her pleading brown eyes brimming with what appeared to be sympathy.

"Listen," she started faintly, Squall straining his ears to hear her over the passing pedestrians and rumbling vehicles. "I know… this has been a really rough week for you. For all of us. And I really feel bad that I might have been making things worse on you and the others. I've been thinking about it these last couple of days, and… maybe you were right. Maybe I was being unreasonable with what I was asking you three to do back in Timber. I guess I got so caught up in the idea of finally being able to make a difference in the fight that I just assumed you would be able to do anything I asked, no matter how badly the odds were stacked against us. I was treating you all like tools instead of people. It wasn't fair to you, and… I'm sorry."

The heartfelt apology was far more than anything Squall could have possibly expected from the girl. It was true that SeeDs were not to question their orders, only to execute them as directed per the details of their contract. The conditions under which this particular contract had been drafted however were dubious at best. He could not imagine she had relayed the specifics of their hijacking operation to the headmaster. The initial deposit required to execute such a mission would have been easily as much as the Dollet parliament had paid, and would certainly have involved more than three rookie operatives. Caught between maintaining his image as a representative of Balamb Garden and the safety of his squad, he had firmly put his foot down and called her faction out for their amateurish handling of such matters. That her attitude had reminded him so much of Seifer's in that very moment had only added fuel to his fire.

"It's fine," he accepted the apology with an eye roll. Still Rinoa kept her tight clasp on his hand.

"I've been wanting to make it up to you, somehow," she admitted. "It might not be much, but… since we're both here, and you're just going to go wandering off anyway… what do you say you let me show you all the hot spots around town? You know, to help take your mind off everything."

"I told you, I want to be alone" he replied irritably, twitching his arm to indicate for her to let go.

"Squall, staying cooped up in your head all the time isn't good for you," she sighed as she tugged him forcefully, refusing to back down. "You need to cut loose a bit, you know, let yourself have fun every once in a while."

 _Did the entire 'mission to save the world' spiel just fly clear over her head?_

"I don't know if you've noticed," he menaced through gritted teeth. "But I'm not exactly a 'fun' guy to be around."

"That's not what I remember from the dance," she slyly winked. "What happened to _that_ guy? He seemed like loads of fun… once he finally decided to let himself be. I told you then and I'm telling you now: just relax, and don't be so deep in thought all the time."

He reflected back on the night of the SeeD ball nearly two weeks ago, and his first encounter with Rinoa. How she had forcibly dragged him into the midst of the dancing couples against his will. How he had ultimately given in and allowed himself to be swept away by her charm. How he had so enjoyed their dance together and felt more at peace than he had in years. And how crushed he had been when it had inevitably ended, only to later learn he had been used as a mere placeholder for his rival. The same rival who now lay in an untimely grave, and over whom she had no doubt shed many a tear these last two nights.

 _So help me, if she's just using me to take his place again…_

"What I'm trying to say is," she started in a coy tone, bowing to him in faux reverence. "It would be my honor to have your company, _your highness_ , in hope that I may get your mind off of things."

 _She_ is _still my client at the end of the day…_

"If _her majesty_ commands it," he reluctantly grumbled.

"She _requests_ it," the Forest Owls' princess huffed, and tugged him forcibly back along the crossing to the southern end of the square. "Come on, let's get a move on! We've got so much to see!"

* * *

The pair trudged along the east end of Deling City for nearly an hour, Rinoa leading the lethargic Squall along by the hand as they navigated the street-side procession. His eyes were awash in the glitz and glamour of his surroundings as they trekked; the lengthy shopping arcade that bestraddled either side of the road was packed with more establishments than he had ever seen. Department stores, restaurants, souvenir emporiums and a fair number of casinos ran up and down the long stretch, flush with seasonal tourists and local regulars alike. The various mouthwatering scents of all manner of worldly cuisine wafted on the air, intermingling and drawing his gaze to each storefront they passed; it was a veritable scavenger hunt to deduce the source of each tempting aroma. Horns blared and reverberated through the expanse as traffic jerked in both directions, abruptly cut off by crossing pedestrians at sporadic intervals. It was a marvel of urban development, leaving Squall impressed both by its sheer scale, and the ease with which Rinoa calmly navigated its swarming length.

"Anything catch your eye?" she smiled back innocently.

"What makes you think I'm the kind of guy who takes an interest in shopping?" he replied, too overwhelmed by the amount of selection to even know where he would potentially start.

"Well, what about something to eat?" she suggested, pointing across the way. "That place over there's always been one of my favorite spots for a bite. You like spicy stuff?"

Squall followed her extended finger to a small dive situated between two larger diners to either side. Straining his vision through the adjacent crowd, he could barely make out the erected menu display beside the door, bearing large color pictures of the various sets on offer.

"It's just a little mom-and-pop shop," she smiled fondly. "But man, do they make a _mean_ curry. Pretty cheap too, all things considered. Glad they're still kicking."

 _Fascinating commentary, as expected._

"And on the other end of the price range…"

She pivoted her indication to a far fancier restaurant further down the opposite end of the street. Even more so than the rest of the downtown district, a thick congregation had assembled around the open entrance, many slouched against the exterior walls of the establishment in impatience. He raised his eyes to the title imprinted in flashing neon overhead: _Desert Delicacies_.

"When it comes to food, that place's considered one of the biggest tourist draws around," she explained. "Their specialty is dishes made out of the Wind Cacti from the desert regions down south. It's considered one of the most exotic and highly sought after foods in the world, mainly because of how hard it is to harvest. Not sure what their secret is, but you'd better believe they've made a killing. People come from all over to try it, even though they charge an arm and leg for just a small meal."

"Balamb's the same way with their premium cuts of fish," Squall finally contributed to the conversation. "You can afford to mark up your prices that steep when there's no real competition around."

"And I take it that holds true for SeeD, too?"

"You catch on quick," he responded, his eyes firmly trained to her in resentment. "First rate talent doesn't come cheap. Or rather, it _shouldn't_."

On a personal level, Squall cared little for the specifics of the Garden's financial workings; the amount of money taken in by the administration per contract was of no concern to him insofar as his duty as a soldier was concerned. For his employer to have exploited the headmaster's kindness to abuse the system however was another matter entirely. As Rinoa's plainly guilt-ridden expression flashed in front of him, he knew she understood full well the intended subtext of his comment.

"Yeah, you're right," she conceded with a sigh. "Look, let's not get all hung up on this now. I want today to be an enjoyable time for both of us, okay? So, do you want to get something to eat? You've got to be starving."

He nodded with a grunt, and allowed the ire to dissipate from his stare. He had eaten nothing since the previous night's stay at Galbadia Garden, and the eve of the Owl's kidnapping plot before that. With all that had occurred in those forty-eight hours, he had found neither the opportunity nor appetite to properly nourish his aching stomach. The two made haste to the nearest crosswalk, and waited for the opposing signal to flash green before making their way to the other side. Rinoa strode forward and on through the meager wooden doorway, Squall following suit as the smell of a delectable array of spices enveloped him.

The small restaurant was little more than a re-purposed private domicile. A fixed wooden counter lined by bar-stools ran under the windows facing the street, along the right hand wall, and to the banister of a staircase leading up to the second level. The narrow kitchen area occupied what remained of the former living space, a middle-aged couple tirelessly toiling over their sizzling and bubbling culinary craft within. The woman raised her head to greet them as the door chimed, and lit up as she recognized the head of the two.

"Oh, my!" she beamed, quickly turning back to her partner. "Rick! Look who's back!"

The man swiftly bolted up from his work and cracked every bit as wide a grin as his eyes met Rinoa's.

"Well, I'll be!" he brazenly greeted her. "If it ain't the little hellion, all grown up!"

"Heya, Rick, Donna," she blushed, folding her arms behind her duster sweater. "It's been a few years, hasn't it? You both holding up okay?"

"Best we can, dear," the lady smiled. "Lately, it's been steady enough, though all this commotion with the parade coming up seems like it's keeping some of our regulars home right now. And who might this be? Your _boyfriend_ , maybe?"

"Not… quite," Rinoa stuttered, clearly as off-put as he. "This is Squall. He's kinda like… a business partner, I guess you could say. It's his first time to the city. I'm just showing him the sights, and figured we could both use a bite."

"I dunno," Rick smirked from the stove-side. "Sounds an awful lot like a date to me."

 _You couldn't pay me a big enough bonus to go along with that…_

"Anyway, if you're Rinoa's friend, that's good enough for us," he smiled. "So what'll it be, the old usual?"

"Two of 'em," she confirmed, turning around to seat herself by the window and patting the neighboring right-hand stool for Squall to join her.

He hurriedly pivoted as the couple set themselves back to work, pulled the seat out from under the counter and maneuvered himself atop. The bustling streets continued to rush on by the glass pane before him, the people's shadows upon the pavement beginning to enlarge in the early afternoon sun.

"Trust me, you're gonna love it," she winked to him, grabbing hold of the water pitcher set between them on the counter with her right hand. "You're probably going to need a lot of this on standby, though. This stuff's liable to burn your tongue off if you're not used to it."

"I think I'll manage," he muttered, taking a single translucent cup from atop the nearby stack and placing it by his side. "Seems like you have quite the name, not just in Timber."

"Well, a girl's gotta get out of the house when she can, right?" she explained, and tilted the pitcher down to pour his glass full. "They're such a sweet couple. They've always been really supportive of me ever since I started coming here regularly. They don't know anything about the Owls, though. This is the first time I've been back since I met up with Zone and the guys. But, what about you? Don't you have anyone back home you meet up with when you're looking to get out and do something?"

"You don't want to get me started on that subject," he irritably remarked, snatching the glass away as she finished pouring. She was beginning to sound like Quistis.

"I see," she demurely backed off, and began to pour herself a cup. "Well then, anywhere you want to see? There's tons of stuff to check out all around town. You've already seen the Iguion Gate, and if we keep heading a bit further down this main drag for a while, we'll eventually hit the war memorial. And if you're really up for a hike, there's always the Tomb of the Unknown King out to the east. It's where the last ruler of the Dollet Empire is buried. It's a bit of a ways outside the city, but there's a shuttle that runs back and forth pretty regularly."

Squall felt little inclination for sightseeing in his present state of mind, much less embarking on a full scale expedition beyond the bounds of the city. That Rinoa could somehow not intuit this, or otherwise refused to take 'no' for an answer was just one further inconvenience he had been forced to bear.

"I'd prefer to stay local," he hinted.

"How did I know you were going to say that?" she commented with her head hung. "Alright, I guess we'll just continue on down the street until we hit the memorial. That sound okay with you?"

"If that's what you want to do."

"No, Squall," she turned to him abruptly. "If that's what _you_ want to do. This isn't about me."

 _Then why does it feel like I'm just being dragged along for the ride?_

The remainder of the wait passed in silence, as Squall's attention again drifted back to the streets beyond. Before long, Donna had arrived at their sides with a pair of steaming dishes, the searing spices piercing his nostrils and further provoking his rumbling stomach. True to Rinoa's precaution, the curry-based dish presented a more than ample kick to his palate, as he found himself going through no less than three refills of water over the course of the meal. His years spent training in the utilization of a fire elemental Guardian Force had brought with it a learned physical resistance to extreme heat. Unsurprisingly however, such bodily tolerance had not extended to his tongue, leaving the high intensity sauce to wreak havoc upon his taste buds. As he proceeded to polish off the admittedly delicious if burning cuisine quickly, chugging back water as needed, he spotted a playful smirk of satisfaction from the seat beside him.

"Holding up okay?" she chuckled. "Don't go keeling over on me. You're not getting off that easy."

The pair finished their respective meals and split the bill evenly, a very reasonable seven-hundred gil apiece. Rinoa thanked her two long-time friends and hugged them both tightly, Donna giving Squall a not so subtle wink over her shoulder as they embraced.

"Nice to meet you. Take good care of this one, you hear? I know she can be a real handful."

"You don't have to tell me," he acknowledged the quip, meeting his employer's pouting glance as she released her grasp and turned back to follow him out the door.

The two re-emerged onto the street-side and continued eastward, sidestepping the oncoming crowds as best they could while struggling to remain beside one another. The sun continued to dip as they traversed for roughly an hour more, passing by all manner of shops and restaurants on their way. Once again, despite having never set foot within the city until that very day, Squall found himself gripped by a strange feeling of familiarity at his surroundings. He had traveled these same roads and passed by these same establishments. All was as he recalled save for the decorative banners that now hung upon the streetlamps up and down the expanse. The unnerving feeling continued to fester in his gut as the city's downtown district stretched on, and finally rose to its zenith as his eyes soon fell upon a nearby towering building.

It stretched up into the skyline for at least eight stories, its exterior elegantly bedecked in red and gold flourishing along the full span of its height. Regal carpeting extended from the spotless rotating glass doors, beyond which a polished and upscale hotel lobby tended by a single bellhop awaited. Even without the luminescent lettering above its entrance to distinguish it, there could be no doubt in Squall's mind that he had once strode through those very same doors. That he had descended the staircase within to the basement level bar, and watched a beautiful young pianist perform on its stage. It had been no innocent dream, of that he was now positive. How could it have been, when the same building now stood erected before his own two eyes, as if plucked directly from his mind and conjured into being?

His heart caught in his throat, his feet immobile as reality and fantasy collided and intermingled, bringing him full circle to the place of Laguna's fated meeting with the woman he had admired. The woman who had reciprocated his admiration, so much so that she had written a song for him, and encouraged him to pursue his dream. Squall had seen it all transpire from behind those eyes she'd adored, rendered incapable of his physical autonomy within the soldier's body. He felt no different now, standing on his own two legs, unable to budge even as every fiber of his body screamed for him to do so. He continued to stare absentmindedly through the glass paneling, his curiosity taking hold as he considered investigating the scene. What would he find should he walk on through those doors and descend those red carpeted stairs again? Would Julia still be there, routinely performing her pieces for the bar regulars, anxiously awaiting Laguna's return?

"Squall?"

He broke from his trance as Rinoa's voice met his ears, and swiveled his focus back to her gaze. She stood on the sidewalk several meters away from him, evidently puzzled at his sudden halt.

"Everything okay?" she called back.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, finally finding the strength to carry his legs forward as he hurried to rejoin her.

 _This has been hands down the strangest week of my life…_

The revelation still weighing on his mind, he followed Rinoa further down the street, taking a turn bound south shortly thereafter. As they pressed on, the buildings on either side slowly gave way to verdant nature, lush trees rising up to dwarf the ever present lampposts. Finally, a large circular park came into view directly ahead, rimmed by verdure and wooden benches pointed inwards toward a large stone monument surrounded by numerous fountains. The effigy had been sculpted in the image of two soldiers standing back to back, with the crest of Galbadia placed to the fore and inscribed with several lines of text. Tourists darted around the expanse with their cameras in hand, or otherwise milled leisurely about the plain of green, content with a momentary reprieve from the city's hustle.

"Let's give our legs a rest," Rinoa gestured to a nearby bench, and moved herself to sit on the left-hand side. Squall begrudgingly lugged himself over and took the open seat beside her, looking out over the scene before him.

Several small children played soccer in the distance under the shade of a nearby thicket, happily passing the ball back and forth to one another with nary a care in the world. Squall envied their naivete, oblivious as they were to the sinister state of affairs the nation had progressed to. How he wished he too could return to a simpler time, free from the responsibility that had been foisted upon him. And yet, as his gaze remained fixed to their wanton recreation, a feeling of resentment toward the merry children soon washed over him. How they smiled and laughed in the company of one another, reflecting the tightly knit bond they no doubt all shared, while he was left to sit by and mire in despair as he observed from the sidelines. He felt a wrathful stirring begin to rise in his chest, as if the very sight had awakened a long dormant rage within him.

He could not understand why. He had always lived alone, and taken comfort in his solitude, but in that moment could feel nothing but anger. The sloshing waters of the fountains were as waves crashing on the seashore far below, where the others frolicked and pranced upon the sand without care. And as he peered down on them from his lookout point beside the great stone house, he could feel his sorrow contort and manifest itself into a vengeful spite. What sense of belonging could he possibly find with them? How could he be expected to just smile and pretend everything was fine?

 _The world is a cruel place, and everyone has to face it -_

"So, listen… there's something important I want to talk to you about."

Squall turned to face Rinoa as her words snapped him back to reality. Her expression appeared far more serious than he had seen her all day, even as her tone retained a seemingly gentle quality.

"What?" he bluntly acknowledged her. "Is it about our contract?"

"No, no, nothing like that," she waved his speculation away. "It's just… like I said, I'm sorry about back in Timber. I realize now I was getting too overzealous with what I was asking you to do."

"Haven't we been over this already?" he grunted.

"Let me finish!" she insisted, suddenly grabbing hold of his hand. Her deep brown eyes stared fiercely into his, clearly wrought with grief.

"Just listen to me for a minute. Squall, I'm… genuinely worried about you. I've been talking with Quistis these last couple of days, and… she's told me about how you get when you're under pressure. About how you just go off into your own little world and try to cut yourself off from everyone. It's like I said, it's not healthy to keep yourself so deep in your own thoughts all the time."

"Did _she_ put you up to this?" he growled irately. He had suspected this entire ordeal to be all too similar to something out of Quistis' playbook from the get-go.

"No, not at all!" Rinoa denied the accusation, shrinking back as she quickly let go of his hand. "I just… I just felt guilty about all that's happened, and wanted to try making it up to you as best I could. That's all. I know you've got this huge assignment coming up. I know it's got to be scary, and that the worst thing you can do in times like these is keep yourself isolated in your own head. I want to give you an out. I want to let you know that if you ever need someone to talk to, even if it's just to vent about anything that's on your mind, you can always come to me. So, please… let me help you. If you're scared, then _tell_ me."

* * *

 _"Then_ tell _me!" she cried. "I've said it before, that I'm always here if you need someone to talk to! Aren't there times when you want to share your feelings with someone? Just to make everything feel a bit better?"_

* * *

"Never," he coldly spoke as he rose from the bench. "And from now on, unless it's about our contract, I'd prefer you don't bother coming to me for anything, either."

"What is your _problem_!?" she shot to her feet with a yelp. "Why do you have to be like that!? Are you mad or something? Please tell me you are, because this really _can't_ be you!"

Her sudden outburst startled him, his eyes wide as hers glared furiously back in frustration. Her arms trembled at her sides and her lips quivered; she was clearly teetering on the edge of breaking down right in front of him, as she had nearly done so in front of the Timber TV station. Squall cared little for her evident lack of emotional stability, no doubt a result of her dysfunctional relationship with her father, but recognized it would be best not to cause such a scene in public.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, casting his eyes downward.

"No, you're not!" Rinoa screeched. "You just wanna get the hell out of here, that's all! Why does it have to be like this!? _Why_!?"

He dared not raise his head as she stormed away in disgust, leaving him standing alone in the midst of the park's shattered tranquility. Her words were harsh and scathing, and entirely accurate above all else. He was not sorry, nor did he feel he had any reason to be. Regardless of whether she had acted upon him in this manner of her own volition or at Quistis' behest, neither scenario could excuse the manipulative nature of her unwelcome advance. He needed no concern or pity from her, nor anyone to confide in. He was self-sufficient, and would conquer the looming adversity ahead on his own terms, as he always had.

Squall finally raised his stare from the grass beneath his feet, and met those of several onlookers dotted about the green expanse around him. Their faces bore expressions of disconcertion, having witnessed Rinoa's fury firsthand, but were each quick to return to their own devices with a single look from him. As he turned his head to scan his immediate surrounding radius, he caught sight of a flash of blonde quickly duck behind the trunk of a nearby tree to his rear, and promptly vanish from sight. Whether it were a trick of the light, or the presence of a particular uninvited eavesdropper, he no longer cared. He lowered himself to the vacant bench once more, his hands clasped in front of him in contemplation, and drifted off into his own thoughts as the sound of the playing children reached his ears again.

 _None of this will change anything. I was just being honest, nothing more. I prefer to be alone… right?_


	18. Chapter 16 - Darkness Descends

16

 **CHAPTER 16 – DARKNESS DESCENDS**

The final remaining glimmers of twilight shone through the bedroom's bay windows, casting long shadows of the evenly spaced square panes across the carpeted floor. The illumination fell on the embroidered circular crest in the center, surrounded on all sides by an expanse of dark pink which stretched to meet the four corners. Ornate drapery and gilded picture frames lined the matching walls, obscured by the dimness that pervaded the room. The ceiling and bedside lamps had remained extinguished for the entirety of the day, leaving the lone occupant to solemnly mull over the events of the previous afternoon beneath the sheets.

All was as Rinoa had left it behind three years ago. From the spacious curtained walk-in closet, to the imposing dresser embedded into the alcove beside it, and the elaborate dressing vanity further along the opposite wall, seemingly every lingering amenity of her youth had been left untouched in the hope she would one day return. No matter the intensity of her resentment for her father and the cause he served, the decision to run away from her privileged upbringing in exchange for life as a homeless renegade had not been an easy one. Even after having joined up with the Forest Owls, and cemented her stature as an anti-government activist, the nostalgic pangs for her former life had proven increasingly difficult to resist. With the assistance of her newfound comrades, she had painstakingly set about redecorating her new living quarters in the image of her home accommodations as best she could, down to the exact shade of paint on the walls. It had provided a comforting attachment to help her through such a tumultuous transitional period in her life. As she now lay nestled in the midst of the genuine article for the first time in years however, there was no such comfort to be had.

Following the explosive fallout of her failed intervention, Rinoa had stormed away in frustration and made her way back down the length of the Deling City shopping arcade. She had approached Squall with nothing but the best intentions, hoping she could offer him even the smallest amount of reassurance and release from his self-imposed detachment. She had tried to show him her good will and understanding, only to have it tossed back in her face so rudely. His aloof behavior was something she could not begin to understand the reasoning behind, and it sickened her to believe that such was indicative of his true personality. Surely the quiet, reserved yet cool-headed SeeD she had met on the dance floor could not have been a facade? How he had gently smiled when they had finished their waltz, having evidently allowed himself to enjoy the moment they had shared; it was unthinkable that such a reaction could come from the emotionless shell of a human being he presented himself as.

She had roamed the streets in a huff for hours, passing the remainder of the afternoon at her local hangouts around town until a time when the sun had long since set. She did not return home for dinner, having no interest in eating in the company of her father, nor the others for that matter, and had instead opted for a local diner situated along the main drag. By the stroke of midnight, when she could be sure all would be sound asleep, she had infiltrated the mansion via the usual method she had utilized since childhood to sneak in and out after hours. From there she had quietly scaled the foyer steps and made her way through the upper level halls to her room, where she had laid in exhaustion and melancholy for nearly the entire following day.

She had skipped both breakfast and lunch, only descending to the kitchen for a snack once she had seen her father take his leave across the cobbled stone bridge through her window. Buel had followed to his rear, a familiar sheathed blade in the image of a revolver held at one side, with a holstered shotgun and ammunition belt slung over his opposite shoulder. She had quickly fixed herself a sandwich in the company of a visibly excited Angelo, offering her a few slices of deli meat from the counter, and hurriedly retraced her steps with the plate in hand as the dog hungrily trailed after. Just as she had reached her bedroom, the door to one of the guest rooms along the stretch of hall swung ajar, freezing her to the spot. From its frame had stepped Irvine, clad in his signature khaki jacket and leather chaps, his black cowboy hat temporarily removed from his light brown hair and held at his side.

"Hey," he had nodded in greeting, taking note of the sandwich held before her. "I was thinkin' it was 'bout that time myself. Didn't see ya at dinner last night. Lemme guess, havin' to eat with yer pops don't leave ya with much o' an appetite?"

"Yeah," she had muttered, not meeting his eyes. "Well… honestly, I think that goes for _everyone_ right now. I don't want to make things… even more awkward."

Her blowout with Squall notwithstanding, her father's demand that she not be involved in the coming assassination plot ensured she would have been the odd one out at the table no matter what.

"I gotcha there," Irvine had agreed with a dour look. "Believe me, sittin' 'round a table with those four's plenty awkward fer me, too… jus' between you an' me, I get the feelin' there's somethin' not quite right with 'em. Like, I don't know what kinda trainin' SeeDs hafta go through, but the way they're takin' this mission… well, lets just say it ain't the kinda attitude I'd expect. Ya think there might be somethin' they put in the water over at Balamb?"

"Maybe," she lightly chuckled. "It would definitely make more sense why Squall takes himself so seriously all the time."

"To tell ya the truth, he's the only one I'm _not_ feelin' too freaked out by right now. Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I'm kinda glad I'm paired up with him tonight, after all."

"Oh," Rinoa had reacted with equal measures of puzzlement and surprise at his response. "So… tonight's the night? Already?"

"Yep," he had affirmed, his voice carrying a strangely hollow intonation. "This is it. The day I go down in history as the guy that knocked off Sorceress Edea… if you'd told me this'd be what my whole life's been leadin' up to, I'd never have believed it."

"You're prepared for it though, right? You don't think you're going to miss?"

"It ain't about hittin' or missin' at this point. I know I've got the skill to pull it off. It's jus'…"

He had trailed off in contemplation, his face taking on a stern expression Rinoa had yet to see from the sharpshooter. Normally so full of daring and swagger as he was, his eyes in that moment showed an unfamiliar tinge of unease and concern.

"Look, there's a lotta things I still don't understand. I'm the one who's come into all this at the halfway point, an' so far the picture's not too clear fer me. Like, what's her ultimate goal here? Why's she allied herself with the Galbadian government? An' why've the top brass at Balamb taken out this contract on her? These are things I've gotta know before I can pull that trigger, an' it feels like the only person I'd be able to get the answers from is the one I've gotta shoot. If only there were some other way…"

Rinoa could sympathize with his hesitation to a certain degree; were she the one charged with assassinating such a high-priority figure, she knew she would require absolute clarity of mind and conscience to go through with it. Though she may not have been a trained Garden operative, she could understand full well the pressure such an assignment would no doubt leave hanging on even the most battle-hardened soldier. For her however, the success of this assignment meant more than simply foiling Galbadia's bid for world domination.

"I definitely don't envy this responsibility you've had placed on you," she had told him firmly. "But no matter what doubts you might have, believe me when I say that we're _all_ relying on you to take that shot. I've seen this sorceress use her powers firsthand along with the others, and it practically made my hair stand up on end. She's pure evil, without a single doubt. I… lost someone very important to me because of her…"

She had attempted to stifle her emotions as she averted her eyes from Irvine, redirecting her stare to the plate she still held in front of her. Angelo rubbed at her side, single-mindedly begging for another nibble, as she cleared her throat and began again.

"Listen… Squall had plenty of his own issues with the orders I gave him, but he was still prepared to go through with them. Because it was his duty as a SeeD, to carry out the mission he had been assigned at any cost. I chewed him out for treating it like just another assignment, and told him how easy he must have it to just live his life following orders blindly. Being the way he is, I figured he didn't have it in him to take a stand for anything other than his own selfish interests. But now, I think I get it. He didn't have to be so _mean_ about it, but… it wasn't him taking the easy way out. He was standing on principle and doing what he knew he had to, even when he'd rather be doing anything else. It was all about the responsibility for him, about living up to his own sense of honor. Just like…"

 _Just like Seifer,_ she realized, at once coming to the understanding that the two had been more alike than she had initially thought. As opposed as their personalities had been to one another, they each had held themselves to a moral standard that went beyond their own individual concerns. Even as callous and standoffish as he had acted towards her the previous evening, the realization at once renewed her hope that there was more to him than he let on.

"'Standin' on principle', huh?" Irvine had quipped as he strode forward, his eyes lowered to the carpet as he passed her by and continued on down the hall. "Sounds like my kinda guy. I guess the only thing left to find out now… is if there's a heart underneath it all."

Those parting words had lingered with Rinoa, long after the sharpshooter had departed the second floor landing. They had continued to echo in her thoughts as she had eaten and left the dish on the floor of her room for Angelo to lap up the remnants. Squall's terrible attitude thus far had painted a strikingly vivid picture of a callous and self-centered antisocial personality. Though she could not discount his loyalty and resolve where his orders were concerned, his emotional disengagement provided an impassible impediment for anyone attempting to work alongside him. Irvine had every reason to be expectant of facing such difficulty in the coming mission, though true to his concerns, it remained the sorceress who would undoubtedly prove the ultimate obstacle to overcome.

As the sight of her dark powers had flashed before her eyes once more in reflection, Rinoa understood the destructive ramifications that would surely arise should she be allowed to unleash them in retaliation. The results would be catastrophic, likely spelling doom not only for their entire retinue, but the lives of countless innocent citizens in the process. She had continued to silently deliberate over their dilemma, pondering all the while as to how she could somehow make herself useful in service of their objective. It was only after lengthy and laborious consideration that she had suddenly been hit by an ingenious realization, coming to her by way of a piece of otherwise innocuous information she had remembered reading mere months ago. She had hoisted herself from her bed and dashed out into the hall, hastily tearing her way down the corridor to her father's chambers.

She had hurriedly laid siege to his vacant living quarters, a suite of elaborately decorated rooms taking up the entire west wing of the top floor. She scoured every corner of the tapestry-bedecked and fully stocked display room for the piece of equipment she sought; specialized technology though it was, and sparsely distributed among the military forces thus far, it would be unthinkable that the Galbadian general would not have one in his possession. Within minutes of combing over the polished assortment of firearms, blades and protective gear, she had found the accessory she sought and swiped it for herself. It now rested on her bedside nightstand, the silver sheen of its metallic coating slowly beginning to fade into darkness as the sun made its final descent beyond the windowpanes. She peeked her head out from beneath the covers in anxiousness, understanding that her time was running short if she were to propose her plan to the others.

 _It should work…_

She raised herself out of bed, snatching up the bangle from the table and shuffling herself over to the window to observe the last remaining dregs of daylight slip below the horizon. In the distance, she could see the thick procession of city-goers beginning to amass before the Presidential Residence, stretching all along the main road well past the Iguion Gate. The sheer amount of people in attendance was enough to rival that of the annual new year's celebrations she could recall from her childhood, if not even greater in scale. Drawing back her gaze back to the manor entrance before her, she peered down upon the raised walkway extending to the exterior gates in time to see the front doors swing open. In a flash, Squall rushed out of the house with purpose, absent his signature revolver shaped blade at his side, as Irvine emerged moments later and quickly adjusted his hat before taking off himself. The man in black fled across the bridge, and the gunslinger followed. The mission had commenced.

Rinoa frantically spun on her heel at once, racing out into the hall and bolting down the stairs to the main foyer two at a time. She caught sight of Quistis, Zell and Selphie gathered by the doorway, the latter of the three attempting to secure her nunchaku in the back of her yellow one-piece outfit.

"Hey, guys!" she called to them, nearly tripping on the bottom step in her haste, and stumbled to right herself as the group of SeeDs turned to face her.

"Sorry, Rinoa," Quistis dispassionately apologized. "But we have to get going. As soon as your father finishes up in his office, we'll be on our way."

"Hold on a sec!" she insisted as she strode up to them and extended the thick metal bracelet in both hands for them to see. "It's about tonight… I think I've got something that could really help you out. Take a look at this. I found it in his personal armory. It's called an Odine Bangle."

" _Odine?_ " Zell repeated, his eyebrows cocked in surprise. "You mean, as in _Odine Industries?_ "

"Exactly. It's a brand new piece of equipment that they've started producing and distributing exclusively to the Galbadian government per their contract. I remembered there was an article written all about it in one of the Anarchist Monthly issues. It's like a restraining device built to keep a captured SeeD from being able to use magic."

"I've heard about them," Quistis interjected. "The administration brought it up at a briefing not long after I got my instructor's license. From what I remember, it supposedly generates a sort of negative ion field around the wearer, designed to counteract and nullify the energy frequency produced by an active GF."

"Damn," Zell moaned. "First I'm hearing about these things. But if they're Odine brand, then I'm not gonna question how well they work."

"Isn't that the same company that produces GFs for Balamb?" Selphie turned her head to him in confusion. "I thought they were on _our_ side?"

"They're not on anyone's side officially, just an independent contractor. Of course, with Esthar being shut off from the rest of the world, you'd need to have someone on the inside to make any kind of agreement with them in the first place. But anyway, what's the deal? How's that thing gonna help us?"

"Well," Rinoa started meekly, her eyes trained to the bangle in her hands. "I just figured, if one of these is capable of negating the magic you guys use… maybe it could work on the sorceress. You know, to keep her from using her power if things don't go as planned."

"And _how_ exactly are you planning to get her to put it on?" Quistis snapped, brazenly stepping to the front of her squad. "And for that matter, who's going to give it to her? When? Have you given this even the slightest bit of thought?"

"That's what I wanted to discuss!" she fired back.

"We don't have time for this! Squall and Irvine are already on the way to their position, and we have our own role in the operation to play. Just do as your father says for once and stay out of this! This isn't a game!"

"Who said this was a game!?" Rinoa spat in defiance, recalling Squall having levied the same accusation toward her in Timber. "I understand what's going on! It's not like I don't have a plan! Why do you have to be so high strung about this!? I'm just trying to help you succeed tonight!"

"You mean like how you tried to 'help' Squall yesterday?"

Her heart caught in her throat as Quistis stared daggers at her, the reason for the apparent hostility at once becoming clear. This argument had nothing to do with matters of practicality or strategy.

"He… told you?"

"He didn't need to," she furiously huffed, crossing her arms. "That was some _fine_ work, especially the way you bit his head off at the end. What part of 'he gets overstimulated easily' did you not understand?"

"You were _stalking_ us!?" Rinoa exploded, going wide-eyed as she stared Quistis up and down with revulsion. To her rear, Zell and Selphie wore similarly disconcerted expressions, reduced to helpless observers as the quarrel in front of them continued to intensify.

"Don't flatter yourself," Quistis coldly menaced. "I couldn't care less about how guilty you feel, or how much you want to make things up to him for whatever reason. It's when you start carelessly heaping even more baggage on him, _knowing_ what he has to deal with ahead, that I take issue. And then you go ahead and top it off by blowing up in his face like that! Just who do you think you are!?"

"And you think it's a good idea to just let him fester by himself!?" Rinoa countered, all composure long since having fallen by the wayside. "As if _that's_ going to help anything!"

"It's better than pouring gasoline on the fire like you've done! When he gets like this, it's always best to just let him cool down on his own. I've known him for far longer than you have, and understand how he ticks better than you could ever hope to. So, I suggest you swallow your pride, and learn to leave things that don't concern you well enough alone!"

The foyer fell silent as Quistis' shrill voice ceased its reverberation off the surrounding gilded walls. Rinoa stood motionless in the face of the verbal onslaught, her eyes locked to hers in disdain and contempt. She clutched the Odine Bangle tightly in her right hand, her trembling grip feeling as though it could easily crush the reinforced metallic exterior in her frustration. Neither Zell nor Selphie uttered so much as a word to their superior, standing with their backs to the door in an effort to distance themselves from the rapid escalation. Rinoa had not initiated this confrontation, but as she felt her fury reach its boiling point, she silently vowed that she would be the one to finish it.

" _Sorry_ ," she snidely apologized, maneuvering the bracelet behind her back and slipping it into the pouch affixed to her rear. "Far be it from me to go stepping on your toes. I just never imagined you would be so easily _threatened_."

" _Excuse_ _me!?_ " Quistis spluttered, her face instantly taking on a look of mortification and disbelief. Rinoa smirked, knowing she had just hit the precise nerve she had been aiming for.

"Don't try to deny it. Even an idiot could see the game you're trying to play here. For all your talk of how worried you are about Squall cutting himself off from everyone, you sure seem to keep him on a tight leash, don't you? You don't really care if he isolates himself from the rest of the world forever, just as long as he knows he has _you_ , am I right? And then, once he finally realizes that all he needs is his tender, loving _girlfriend_ , or _mother-figure_ , or whatever the hell you think you are to him, who's always been by his side, everything will be alright. He won't _need_ anyone else in his life. That is such disgusting emotional manipulation that it makes me sick! Maybe Seifer was onto something after all! You really _are_ just a pathetic fraud, playing caretaker in the hope that somebody will love y-"

Her words were abruptly cut short as the slap struck her across her face, forcefully jerking her head sideways as the sharp stinging enveloped her cheek. She stumbled and grit her teeth in anguish, bringing her hand up to cover the left side of her face. Her eyes had barely even registered Quistis' lightning fast movements, leaving her no time to react to the sudden lunging strike.

"Don't you _ever_ speak to me like that!" she growled. "But while we're on the subject, I'd say Squall was onto something about _you_! Nothing but a spoiled brat with no respect for authority, just like your thick-headed boyfriend was!"

"You _bitch_!" Rinoa shrieked as she leapt straight for her.

Her balled right fist met Quistis' palm in mid flight, her opponent not backing down an inch as the blow was intercepted. She immediately drew back her left for a low jab, only to be knocked off balance as her legs were swept out from underneath by a spinning sweep kick. She landed sideways on her left hip, shutting her eyes tightly as she groaned from the sharp impact on the hard tiled floor.

"Instructor!" Zell's voice rang out through the hall.

"Stop it, you two!" Selphie yelped frantically. "Can't we all just get along!?"

Rinoa gradually cracked her right eye open, peering upward to see Quistis' mask of indignation leering over her prostrate figure.

"You will _never_ win against me," she grumbled lowly, as two sets of hurried footsteps began making their approach from the adjacent corridor. "You're not a fighter. You're a liability, and I'm telling you for the last time to stay out of our business. _And_ Squall's."

"What's going on here!?"

Rinoa craned her neck back to see her uniformed father and Buel standing by the hallway entrance leading towards his study. His face was rife with irritation and bewilderment, while the aide's appeared to reflect only mild discontent.

"N-nothing sir!" Zell called from the door, hastily bolting across the expanse to Rinoa's side. "Just a little accident, nothing to worry about! Here, let me help you up."

He extended his hand to her considerately, as Quistis swiveled around and began back across the foyer's length to the door. She stopped only to retrieve her discarded right-hand glove from the floor, which she had whipped off with blindingly fast speed moments before. With a slight moan at the soreness of her still aching hip, Rinoa took hold of his outstretched black glove and rose to her feet with his assistance. Her father's stern glare remained unmoving from his face as he observed.

"See those three to the car," he firmly addressed Buel to his side. "I will be out momentarily."

The aide complied on cue with a bow, motioning to the door as he started across the room. Zell sheepishly grimaced with sympathy to Rinoa, ducking his head as he trailed away from her and followed suit. She watched the threesome file out one by one, catching a similar glance of empathy from Selphie before she stepped on through. The large oak doors closed at last, leaving her by herself in the presence of the general, as she mentally braced herself for the incoming lecture.

"What happened just now?" he began the interrogation predictably, striding in front of her. "Why is your cheek red?"

"It's none of your concern," she mimicked his intonation from the previous afternoon, deliberately not meeting his eyes.

"Well, with an attitude like that, I have at least a reasonably good guess," he returned the slight. "And frankly, you should be grateful that I don't give the other one a smack right now for talking to me like that. Unfortunately, there are far more pressing matters to attend to."

He turned his back to her and strode forward to the entrance, propping the left-hand door open ever so slightly with his foot as he turned his attention to the control panel fixed to the wall at its side. He brought his hand up to its touch-screen interface, pressing his digits to the fingerprint recognition scanner, and with several more subsequent command prompts engaged the mansion's security mechanism. As soon as the front door closed completely, each and every exit and window would be automatically bolted shut, and the alarm system engaged.

"It'll be chaos out there tonight," he reminded her. "This is for your own safety. Hopefully when it's all over, things will be different. Just know this: whatever you might think of me, there are plenty of quarrels I have with the way this nation has been run over the years. I'm not proud of every order I've given or carried out, but each action I've taken has been in faith that one day, there will be lasting changes made. And with any luck, tonight's operation will be the first step on the road to better days ahead. Good night. I love you… even after all that's come between us."

With not a word more, the general stepped out through the great oaken partition and closed the door behind him, a distinct click sounding as it locked into place. Rinoa stood alone in the foyer, her head bowed in deep contemplation. Whether her father's admission were sincere or yet another attempt to force her into compliance did not matter in the slightest. For every plea she had made to be allowed to contribute to the mission, be it with him or Quistis, she had been dismissed without so much as a cursory consideration. She had been shoved to the sidelines as nothing but a nuisance, relegated to standing idly by as her lover's killer took the stage before the world. She could do nothing but place her trust in the hands of a lone gunman, who had admitted to her that very morning of his very real doubts.

 _No… I'm not going to just sit here and do nothing. I am_ not _a liability. This isn't some kind of game._

She took off down the hallway her father and Buel had emerged from, blowing by room after room at a breakneck pace until she reached the door at the very end. She stepped onto the hardwood floor of the ornate, green-tinted study, and turned her focus to the sculpted bust in the lower left-hand corner of the room. It rested within a tall semi-circular alcove carved into the wall, fixed to the pedestal it sat upon and decorated by a lone emerald gemstone on its neck. It had been crafted in the image of her dearly departed mother, whose portrait hung upon the adjacent wall, a wine glass clasped below her solemn yet mysterious expression. And yet despite such palpable mystique that had been so vividly captured by the artist, it was not the painting which held the secret she sought.

Rinoa grabbed hold of the ingrained emerald and twisted it ninety degrees counter-clockwise. Placing her free hand to the rear wall of the alcove, she pushed forcefully and steadied herself as the surfacing, pillar, bust and all slowly swung outward, coming to a rest on the right-hand side to reveal a dark stairwell stretching downward into the void. It connected to the Deling City sewer system, from where she would easily be able to make her way back up to street level. She had unwittingly discovered the secret passageway in her childhood, and had over the years made regular use of it to sneak out of the house whenever she could get away with it.

 _Looks like some things never change…_

She stepped through the alcove's entryway, turning as she strode onto the first few steps to readjust the statue. With a small heave, the wall began to slide once again along its treads and back into place, leaving her in complete darkness as she fumbled for the passage's side to guide herself along. Her mind was fully made up.

 _I might not be a SeeD, but… I can do this!_

* * *

"Talk about a packed house," Irvine commented, his words barely audible over the omnipresent murmuring of the gathered masses standing all around them.

"It's history in the making," Squall grumbled from his side. "It never fails to bring out that feeling of insecurity in people, that desire to be there to see it happen, and be a part of something bigger than themselves. It's reassuring to let yourself fall in line with the group… from what I'm told, at least."

"Well, one thing's fer sure," he quipped, lowering the brim of his cowboy hat over his eyes. "One way or another, they're in fer a night they'll never forget."

Squall's eyes swept over the commotion that had organized itself in the square before the Presidential Residence. Where once streams of traffic had crossed and intersected in tandem, there now stood a veritable sea of pedestrians packed together, shoulder-to-shoulder with one another in the mounting dusk. Two massive display screens had been erected to either side of the compound's gates, projecting a close-up of the erected speaking podium high above. Numerous manned TV cameras had been elevated via scaffolding around the rim of the public gathering, an array of connecting HD cable wiring stemming from their rears and trailing down the side. As the general had informed them, the event would be broadcast live on all frequencies utilizing the Timber TV station as an intermediary control center. The eyes of the world would be upon them shortly.

The adjoining roads to the east, west and south stood guarded by several blockades of uniformed soldiers, acting as formally established checkpoints for those arriving to witness the impending ceremony. The two had passed through the security pat-down procedure without issue, Squall's only contention coming by way of being forced to conceal his GF in the fore of his steel-tipped right boot. It had been a source of severe discomfort, leaving no leeway whatsoever for his toes, and had required he move with a far slower and more deliberate pace than usual to appear natural. He had reluctantly relinquished his gunblade and spare ammunition compartment to the general earlier that morning, as had Irvine his own personal firearm and bullet belt. Both sets of weapons and their respective reserves had been handed off to their escort, leaving the metallic sphere his only method of self-defense for the time being. He had fished it out of his shoe upon taking position, and re-clipped it to his entwined belts, preemptively engaging it for good measure. To the rear of the residence, the digital time display stretched into the darkening sky, each tick of its crimson font bringing them another second closer to their moment of destiny: _18:58:34, 18:58:35…_

"So listen," Irvine spoke up again. "I've got a question fer ya."

"What?" Squall responded with a grunt. "Is it about the plan?"

"Well, sorta. It's jus'… is it true that SeeDs ain't supposed to question their mission?"

He swiveled his head in perplexity to face him, caught off guard by the inquiry. Of every triviality he could have expected the sharpshooter to be needlessly preoccupied with at such a crucial juncture, such a poignant and applicable remark had not been among them. It was the very same dilemma Squall had struggled to rationalize over the course of the entire week, since his arrival at the Forest Owls' hideout. Even now, the mental dissonance gripped him, tearing him between his duty and his own consideration of the operation's practicality, or lack thereof.

"Why do you care?" he retorted.

"'Cause I wanna be sure o' the kinda man ya are," Irvine glanced to him sideways with a steely look. "Is that somethin' ya hold yerself to fer the sake of yer honor? Or is it jus' 'bout followin' orders 'cause it's all ya know how to do? I guess what I'm tryin' to say is… if it came down to it, d'ya think ya'd be able to let that kinda loyalty go?"

The question was one for which Squall had no concrete answer. He had lived all his life at the whim of his various instructors and superiors, and before long had come to find a sense of dignity and prestige in the position he carried. No matter his disdain for the subject matter or exercise at hand, he had always applied himself diligently through the years and abided by the strict code of conduct expected of a Garden cadet. His complicit desertion in the midst of the Dollet Field Exam had been one of very few instances of insubordination on his otherwise spotless record, and for which he had not even been allotted his due punishment.

He understood his SeeDship had been attained on illegitimate grounds, that he ought to have been made to bear an equal share of the punishment as Seifer. Perhaps his rival would still be alive had he been forced to remain stationed with him at Balamb. Obedience was the core tenant at the very heart of the Garden code which he had failed to live up to. Still, he remained unrepentant for his decision, and found his resolve only strengthened in having learned of Caraway's own intent for the entire Dollet invasion to fall apart. How could he possibly call himself a member of the world-renowned, elite mercenary army in spite of his defiance to its very principles?

* * *

 _"Even so," he continued, "I am not entirely without sympathy for your reasoning. The last thing I want is for you all to become mindless machines incapable of thinking and acting for yourselves. The mark of a truly great leader is the ability to make the_ best _decision when the_ right _decision isn't always clear."_

* * *

"It's complicated," he spoke at last, the headmaster's words to Seifer echoing in his ears all the while. "Ask me again when this is all over. Or actually, don't. Regardless, tonight's not the night to be hung up on these kinds of matters. We both know what needs to be done."

"Have it yer way," Irvine replied, turning his eyes back to the Presidential Residence ahead. "Still… if ya knew that yer enemies were pure evil, ya'd naturally be more fired up to fight 'em, right?"

"Pure evil?" Squall repeated, not understanding how the newly posed question followed from the last.

There could be little doubt that the sorceress was a fearsome figure, who at the very least had been directly culpable in the execution of his rival. Her powers had led to her recruitment to aid Galbadia in their conquest of the world. And yet, he knew nothing of her motivations, nor the long road that had led her to that very point. Did the alliance she had forged necessarily reflect her moral standing?

"Right and wrong aren't what separate us and our enemies," he recited. "It comes down to our different standpoints, our perspectives on the world. There's no inherently good or bad position, just two sides holding different views."

Such was the ethos of SeeD, to take no side but the one which provided payment. But even as the words left his tongue, he remained unrelieved of the lingering anger brought on by Seifer's death. Try as he might, he could no longer in good conscience keep himself distanced emotionally from the operation at hand. It had become personal to him, whether or not he willed it to be. He sought retribution, and as the last ray of sunlight finally fell away beyond the horizon, he swore he would have it at any cost.

* * *

"Well, here we are," General Caraway announced as the limousine gradually pushed its way forward to just beside the southern entrance of the Iguion Gate. Pedestrians parted at the behest of the guiding traffic patrols, retreating to the sidewalks on either side to allow the vehicle passage. Slowly it turned, decelerating as it came to a rest horizontally before the looming archway and the engine finally disengaged.

"This is where we part ways," he continued, extending the open palm of his leather gloved hand out to them. Within its clasp lay a lone rusted key.

"I must be on my way back to the central compound to oversee the proceedings there. This is the key to the maintenance door on the right-hand side. Head straight on through, and climb the ladder up to the top level. You'll find the gate controls there. Remember, 2000 hours. Best of luck to you all."

"General," Quistis began as she rose from her seat to take the key. "May I ask what our exit strategy is? Even should we succeed, would we not be cornered inside?"

"Stay put and keep the door locked," he answered bluntly. "My colleagues close to the president will make arrangements for your release in the aftermath."

"How are they ever going to get us off the hook for something like _this_?" Zell questioned, his face wrought with dread and uncertainty.

"That is not your concern," he firmly declared as the rear door of the limousine opened from the outside. "I would suggest that you simply execute your orders as instructed, and leave the legalistic matters to us. Now, please be on your way. The people of the world are depending on you."

Quistis remained still in apprehension at the general's reprimand for several moments before bowing her head in acknowledgment, and quickly maneuvered herself out of the vehicle. Selphie and Zell soon followed onto the pavement, each bearing a similar expression of unease as Buel closed the door and began back around to the driver's side. The three quickly strode onward into the mass of citizenry gathering beneath the grand archway, deftly maneuvering themselves to the right side and hugging the wall as they inched their way forward. No matter how she attempted to convince herself of Caraway's assuredness, she remained disquieted at the lack of any understanding of how they were to be extricated from their position. It was not her place to question the directive of their employer, as high ranking a military official as he was. Nevertheless, it served to offer her scant assurance in the already shaky logistics of of the plot.

They finally reached the steel maintenance door ingrained into the side wall of the archway, sidestepping a dozen more pedestrians before them to reach its frame. Quistis jammed the key into the lock, twisted it and swung the door ajar with a creak. The three stepped into the dimly lit, brick-laden interior, entirely vacant save for the bulky chain-wound network of gears that served as the lowering mechanism for the gates, and a steel-runged ladder set into the wall.

"Lock the door, Zell," she ordered, taking hold of its rusted handles. She hoisted herself onto it promptly as the door closed behind her, and began to climb, her teammates following momentarily.

"So, they're gonna 'make arrangements' for us?" the blonde haired youth quipped from below. "What the hell does that even mean!? I can't be the only one who thinks we're being hung out to dry here."

"Yeah, you'd think they'd have the decency to let us in on how we're getting out of this." Selphie agreed.

"Whatever the reason," Quistis grunted as she pulled herself up over the lip of the ladder's top. "It's our duty as SeeDs to execute the mission as instructed, like he said. We'll just have to put our trust in him and his allies."

She gazed around the upper level of the gateway's interior, taking note of the massive lever situated beside the assortment of gears on the western wall. A single narrow window had been installed on the northern wall of the control room, providing an unmatched view of the Presidential Residence and the masses assembled before it. She darted her eyes across the seemingly endless throngs of people, wondering if she would somehow catch sight of Irvine's cowboy hat amid the commotion.

"I guess you're right," Zell acknowledged as he hauled himself to his feet. "All we can do is make sure our part goes off without a hitch."

"Fortunately, we've already dealt with biggest inconvenience," Quistis muttered, her rage threatening to flare up again at the very mention of it.

"You know," Selphie started with an unusually serious tone to her voice. "It might not be my place, but… I think you should apologize to her once this is all over. That was _way_ over the line. I get that she was disrespectful to you, but it's like Irvine said, the reason she lashes out like that is because it's all she knows how to do. It's just the way people who come from a broken home like that grow up. No mom, a dad that's never there for her when she needs him… it's not something I'd wish on anyone. So, please… I'm not saying to just roll over and accept that kind of treatment from her, but… maybe try to be a little more understanding of where she's coming from?"

Quistis mulled over her words as she continued to stare out the window over the crowd, the digital clock in the distance ticking on all the while. She had tried to be diplomatic with Rinoa, just as she had with Seifer over the years, and in both instances been proven incapable of commanding their respect. Squall clearly wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her, despite her well-meaning attempts to foster communication with him. She had strived to be understanding of others all her life, only to be humiliated and disregarded for her efforts time and again.

* * *

" _Apparently I wasn't strict enough, didn't discipline my students the way they wanted… That… wasn't the kind of instructor I wanted to be. I thought I could do things differently, make friends out of my students instead of being strict and uncaring towards them. I tried my best… I really did. I wonder where I went wrong…"_

* * *

"You're right," she responded coldly. "It's not your place. Now, enough talk. We're on standby. Act like it."


	19. Chapter 17 - A Sacrificial Rite

17

 **CHAPTER 17 – A SACRIFICIAL RITE**

Rinoa reached the apex of the dank, rusted ladder and heaved upward against the hefty manhole cover. Using just enough force to dislodge the seal, she raised it ever so slightly and peered her eyes through the crack. The restless din of the massive public assembly several blocks over reached her ears from further down the alleyway, her immediate shadowy surroundings completely bare save for several carelessly strewn piles of trash. Her years spent routinely breaking curfew had imbued her with an intimate knowledge of the city's maze-like subterranean network. Though far from the most elegant or hygienic method of passage, it had served to quench her thirst for escapism all the same, and now would allow her to make the difference she had long since sought to in the fight against Galbadia. And beyond even that, to alleviate her aching heart of the agony left by words unsaid.

She slid the cover aside along the pavement and hoisted herself up to street level. The alley she had emerged into ran between a set of high-rise buildings to the west end of the Presidential Square ahead. The sky above framed by the tall rooftops had fallen completely dark, what little light was cast on her vicinity coming by way of the streetlamps along the road to her fore. Swiftly returning the cover to its resting position, she raised herself upright and began down the dimly lit stretch, a bustling procession of last-minute stragglers passing by at its mouth. She casually stepped out onto the sidewalk, intermingling with the oblivious people of the city, and turned her gaze toward the tall digital time display atop the Presidential Residence. The guiding beacon continued ticking on, having passed the stroke of seven just minutes before. Rinoa reflexively quickened her pace to a brisk speed-walk, understanding her remaining time to be scarce if she were to reach her target before she made her public appearance.

She broke off from the stream of townsfolk after three blocks, continuing past the main intersection to the left-hand flank of the residence. Wrapping around the exterior foliage decorating the space immediately before the west outer wall, she passed by various unattended parked loading vehicles, their rears long since relieved of their cargo, and before long arrived by the largely desolate side entryway. A scant two armored guards stood at attention to either side of the narrow iron gateway, decorated with the same crest as that of the main entrance, albeit rendered in far smaller dimensions. Neither had yet taken notice of her approach, concealed as she was by the front of the nearest cargo truck she hid behind. Slowly and steadily peeking her head over the hood, the knot in her stomach began to tighten as she mentally prepared herself for the ruse she was to perpetuate. Its success would require all of her wits and a sharp tongue to match, to speak nothing of sheer luck that the lingering stench of the sewers had not permeated her attire significantly. She willed her heart to slow its pounding rhythm, and with a deep exhale stepped out from behind her source of cover.

 _Relax,_ she reminded herself as she strode toward the gates, straightening her posture and adopting an elegant stride as she had been taught since childhood. _Just be natural, and even a little entitled if you have to. It's not_ completely _untrue, after all._

"State your business," the right-hand guard commanded as she approached. "This area is off limits to civilians."

"Rinoa Caraway," she introduced herself, mustering as firm a tone of voice as she could manage. "Daughter of General Caraway. I've come to pay our proper respects to the sorceress in his stead."

The soldier turned his head to his fellow sentry, their eyes beneath their visor-equipped helmets meeting in skepticism.

"Did the general have a daughter?" he asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Sounds about right to me," the other replied. "I think I remember hearing something about that a few years back."

"Please, let me through," Rinoa doubled down on her gambit with a frantic intensity which was not fabricated in the slightest. "I need to see her before the ceremony starts."

"I'm afraid we're going to have to see some form of identification first," the guard sternly informed her. "Sorry, but we're not just going to take your word for it."

"I don't have time for this!" she insisted, her heart sinking into her gut at the realization that she could not possibly comply. Her old city residence card had been consumed in the blaze with the rest of the Forest Owls' hideout mere days earlier. No matter how much of a fuss she sought to make of it, she ultimately had nothing on hand to prove her legitimacy.

"She's been expecting me! I'm telling you, if you don't let me in to see her, my father's not the only one you're going to hearing from about this!

"And I'm telling _you_ that if I can't verify who you are, you're not coming in!" he chastised her. "It's really that simple. We're not about to just let a complete stranger stroll onto the premises, least of all on a night like this. If you don't have an ID, then please leave the area. I'm not going to ask you-"

"Hey, what's goin' on over here?"

Rinoa swiveled her head in tandem with the two guards to the source of the inquiry. A third armored patrolman approached from the south at a brisk jaunt, weaving his way around the parked vehicles which lined the avenue to their position.

"This girl says she's the general's daughter," the second of the two watchmen informed the newcomer. "I've never seen her around, and she _really_ doesn't want to show us any kind of ID. What about you, Owens? Ring any bells for you?"

The freshly arrived infantryman stared Rinoa up and down for several moments, his lips pursed in contemplation. She began to consider if perhaps her efforts had indeed been in vain, and if the most sensible course of action were a hasty retreat the moment she got the chance. Her intended diplomatic strategy had proven fruitless in the face of Deling's stingy security team, leaving her with no other viable option to fall back on.

"Wait a minute," the third soldier suddenly spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of comprehension. "Yeah, I've seen you before!"

Rinoa's heart skipped a beat, her eyes jutting open in surprise as she prepared her legs to dash away.

"You're the one who was with the sorceress' knight yesterday, right?" he bashfully questioned. "You know, out in the Presidential Square, when I bumped into him. He… didn't take what I said personally, did he? It was an honest mistake, I swear!"

"Hold on a second, Owens!" the first guard addressed him, as Rinoa struggled to keep any indication of befuddlement from appearing on her face.

 _He's obviously talking about Squall, but… 'sorceress' knight'? What's that supposed to mean?_

"The knight hasn't left the residence for the last three days! How could you have seen him out in the square?"

"Yeah," the second concurred. "And on top of that, you've been assigned to patrolling out here for all that time, right? You've never even been inside to see him, so how in the hell would _you_ even know what he looks like!?"

"Well, I don't know anything about all that," the soldier named Owens admitted to his comrade. "But he was _exactly_ like lieutenant Boals told me back at the barracks. Young kid with a scar running down from his forehead and across the bridge of his nose, right? You're not seriously going to tell me there'd be _two_ guys with a wound just like that!"

Rinoa's blood froze at the very mention of the description. Her confusion abruptly turned to shock, before blossoming into hope, and reverting back into bewilderment yet again in little more than the span of a second. Countless questions instantly shot through her mind, each and every one a subdivision of this single, earth-shattering revelation she had just been privy to. There had in fact been at least two men alive with such a scar, and if what she was hearing was to be believed, there still were, even now.

"I… suppose it's not very likely," the first guard lowly muttered, his visor titled down in concession. "It doesn't make any sense though. I could've sworn he never-"

"D-do you believe me _now_!?" Rinoa interjected, internally fighting to regain her prior assertive attitude. "I've told you once… if you don't let me through, you're going to have more people to answer to than just my father!"

The three soldiers fell completely silent, none daring to argue with her demand. With an audible sigh, the irritated spokesman of the group about faced, gripped the iron latch set into the crested gateway, and heaved it upward into its unlocked position. He swung open the entryway with one arm as his fellow sentry stepped aside of its radial trajectory.

"Be quick about it," he grumbled. "The president should be starting his speech any minute now."

Rinoa quickly bowed her head in acknowledgment and practically bolted on through the opened gate without a word, emerging onto the western stretch of the inner courtyard. Dozens of large unpacked wooden crates lay piled up across the expanse, gutted of their previous contents and left cluttered about the perfectly paved interior premises. Having caught sight of no further guards amid the abandoned containers, she swiftly navigated her way around their bulky frames toward the front side of the complex. Reaching the lightly curved wall just before the glass-partitioned revolving entryway, she pressed her back up against its frame and stealthily poked her head around the corner.

The main gate sat to the fore of the Presidential Residence, the streets beyond their cast-iron barring packed to the brim with a large percentile of the city's general population. Their restless murmuring carried itself over the tall concrete outer walls, the anticipated moment they had gathered for drawing closer with each passing second. On the opposite end of the inner courtyard, a massive parade float sat ready and waiting, illuminated by the two blazing torches elevated on either side of its front, and the glowing blue halo light structure which capped its height. A gilded throne framed by numerous large wing-like appendages had been erected atop the gold embroidered platform, itself seated on a revving motorized carriage manned by a single soldier.

The float was surrounded on all sides by a gathered marching band, in addition to no less than fifty masked figures outfitted in matching red and black leather attire. The gold rings sewn into their costumes jangled loudly from across the divide as they continued to rehearse their choreographed dance routine. Among them stood several guards overlooking the proceedings, stationed sporadically around the idle transport. Rinoa quickly scanned her eyes over the congregation, searching for any sign of the signature blonde hair or grey jacket to confirm her suspicions. Could it be possible? Had the sorceress in fact spared his life, despite the official word they had received to the contrary? And if so, what did it all mean?

' _The sorceress' knight'… there's no way he would-_

"Good evening, people of Deling City!" a sudden amplified proclamation reverberated overhead, abruptly pulling her from her thoughts. "Nay, people of the world! On behalf of the entire Galbadian Presidential Administration, I bid you all welcome on this monumental night!"

A reasonably energetic round of applause sprung up from beyond the gates. Despite her lack of a proper visual to operate by, Rinoa could tell the cheer was largely born out of obligation than genuine enthusiasm at the emcee's pronouncement. Even among his own nation's people, Deling's favorability had been on a slow and steady decline since the conclusion of the war seventeen years earlier. He had been granted his indefinite term extension in what was to be his last year in office, for the purpose of maintaining strong leadership of the nation during a period of impending global conflict. It had been expected that he would step down following the war's resolution, but as no formal treaty with Esthar had been signed, the binding legalese under which the extension had been implemented remained in effect, allowing him to maintain his position for a full two decades after his initial term should have ended. That he had continued to deliberately instigate conflict across the continent for the sake of legitimizing his ongoing reign had soured his approval ratings drastically. To have now forged an alliance with a supposed sorceress could not be inferred as anything but further cause for concern.

"We thank you all for waiting so very patiently!" the emcee continued, as Rinoa swept her eyes across the adjacent assembly of parade dancers and guards; all stood stationary with their eyes trained to the podium high above. "It is a very special occasion indeed! Tonight, we gather to celebrate the union of our great nation with our esteemed guest of honor, Sorceress Edea, whom you shall be hearing from very soon. But first, let us welcome a familiar face to the stage. Making his first public appearance since the attempt on his life in Timber earlier this week, ladies and gentlemen, President Vinzer Deling!"

The crowd's half-hearted applause kicked up yet again, Rinoa using the distraction to her advantage as she dashed around the corner and in through the revolving front entrance of the estate. The ornamented grand foyer lay completely vacant of security, leaving her free to bolt up the main staircase to the upper levels at will. She had set foot within the Presidential Residence only once before at the age of eleven, in the company of her father. The two had been extended an invitation to attend Deling's son's wedding, the reception for which had been held in the ballroom on the second level. As such, her abiding memories of six years earlier assisted little in her navigation of the third floor's winding halls. She closely hugged the walls as she progressed, taking great pains to keep her sense of direction oriented at all times towards the southern end of the estate. She passed door after door on either side of the numerous corridors in her search, being forced to double back twice upon hearing voices approaching from down the adjacent hallways. Despite having been officially allowed entry onto the grounds by the guards, it was highly unlikely that her cover story would hold water among those higher up the chain of command.

After roughly two minutes of scurrying about the upper level, she turned along a windowed intersection to arrive by the side of an ornately carved oak doorway. The large double doors sat on the south side of the passage, beneath a silver plaque inscribed with the words, ' _Commencement Hall_ '. Rinoa strode forward to its elegant wooden frame and pressed her ear to the etchings. She could hear not a sound from the room beyond, save for the faint reverberations of Deling's ongoing speech outside. With a quick glance back down either end of the corridor, she sucked in a deep breath through her nose and delicately cracked the door open to peer inside.

Her eyes met the dimly lit hall within, swathed in translucent white drapery on all sides from front to back. The only present light source came courtesy of the chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center, situated inside a rounded alcove decorated by a rim of shimmering blue stained glass. A single love-seat rested in the luminescence immediately below, upon which a lone figure sat facing the closed double doors on the opposite end of the room. A large golden back-piece obscured her view of the occupant, designed in the shape of a gilded half-circle with seven sharp spokes jutting out symmetrically. Through the resulting gaps between, she took note of the familiar headdress, topped by three curving, devilish horns. A pair of flowing trails made from the same sheer white fabric as the surrounding curtains dangled from the bottom of the half-circle, limply resting upon the hard linoleum floor.

Rinoa's pulse quickened at the sight of her target, seated and seemingly unaware of her presence. She reached her hand back into her rear pouch and withdrew the Odine Bangle. She had come so far, and now stood within a mere matter of yards from the second most important figurehead in the nation. And yet, knowing what she needed to do, the meager distance between them may well have been a country mile. She would need to be deathly quiet in her approach, delicate in her enactment, and faster than she had ever moved to make her getaway. Steadying her breath support, she cracked the door open further and sidled into the hall, lightly closing it behind her as discreetly as possible.

She slowly crept up behind her unsuspecting victim, putting the utmost care into each step. The sorceress remained stationary on her seat, moving not a muscle as the gap between the two closed. Before long, Rinoa ceased breathing altogether, both to ensure not even the faintest sound compromised her presence, and to steady her shaking hand which bore the bracelet. Five steps were all that remained between them. Four. Three. Two.

"Explain yourself."

The frigid voice cut through the silence of the commencement hall, halting Rinoa in her tracks as her eyes went wide in alarm. Despite her best efforts, she had been uncovered all the same.

"P-pardon me, your… excellency," she stammered, preparing to fall back on her ruse. "I'm, um… the d-daughter of General Caraway. I just thought I'd… you know, come pay my r-respects… because of my father and all. So, anyway… I, um, brought you a small gift. It's… um, a family heirloom, and we'd be h-honored if you'd wear it tonight."

She slowly maneuvered herself to the side of the chair, noticing that the sorceress still wore the crimson bird-shaped mask she had donned in the Timber TV station's dressing room. She gently began to lower the bangle down to her slender arm, entirely covered by the sleeves of the dark violet, skin-tight dress she wore.

"Please," she spoke delicately. "Allow me-"

She had barely gotten the words out before she was knocked off her feet by a sudden invisible blow, dropping the bracelet as she careened backwards and slammed hard into the left-hand wall. The impact knocked every ounce of anxiously withheld air from her lungs, the pain far eclipsing that of her tumble to the floor from Quistis' sweep kick. She yelped in agony, rendered helpless as she lay splayed against the wall, entangled in the white drapery. In her disorientation, she felt her mind slowly descend into a thick haze, the room around her swirling into a dark, nigh impenetrable fog before her very eyes. A sharp stinging began to bore through her head, giving way to an eerie silhouette of a woman's face shrouded within the darkness.

 _[Do you think me a fool, little girl?]_

The chilling sneer seemed to permeate her very soul, shooting through her consciousness not by way of her ears, but a strange form of telepathy. She strained to move her mouth to respond, only to find she had lost all control of her anatomy.

 _[How pathetic, that you would think me so naive as to willingly accept that cursed trinket. I cannot possibly allow such equal measures of insult and treachery to go unpunished… but alas, the moment I have long awaited, the night to be written in legend and spoken of in hushed reverence is upon us at last. And perhaps before you die, you shall make for fine stage dressing in my hour of triumph. Come.]_

Her legs not operating of her own will, Rinoa sluggishly rose to her feet, untangling herself from the curtains, and stumbled to the sorceress' side as commanded.

* * *

"I will not stand to be intimidated by such cowardly attempts on my life," Deling firmly declared from the podium high above. "You may all rest assured, knowing that my unyielding resolve to usher this nation onward toward a brighter future has never been stronger than it is now. And with it, my confidence in the alliance we have forged with tonight's esteemed guest of honor grows stronger still."

The cheers of the surrounding onlookers had proven underwhelming at best for the duration of the president's speech. Squall stood beside Irvine in silence among them all, waiting patiently through his self-important boasting for the sorceress to make her appearance. Per Caraway's pre-mission briefing, once her own address had concluded, the stationed security forces would begin marshaling the pedestrians out of the street to the sidewalks to make way for the oncoming parade procession. The resulting bustle would provide them an opportunity to shove their way along the left-hand side of the crowd, and work their way down the adjacent street to their designated extraction point. He had become increasingly antsy as he continued to wait, the pressure mounting ever more as the clock continued to tick. At nearly quarter past 1900, he began to wonder if the general's assurance of the float passing under the gateway at precisely 2000 could be believed.

"The mysterious, magical gift of the sorceress is a power we have sought to make our own for many years now," Deling continued. "It has been a long and winding journey rife with monumental setbacks and inconveniences. And so, citizens of Deling City, and all those watching around the globe, it is my utmost honor to present to you our newest and most cherished ally, by whose blessing we shall lead Galbadia into a new era of prosperity upon the world stage. Please welcome, Sorceress Edea!"

The crowd remained tepid in their demeanor, murmuring to one another with discomfort as the president stepped back from from the podium to stand by its side. Several suspenseful moments passed by in anticipation, as Squall kept his eyes trained to the projection of the vacated speaking platform shown on the dual display screens. Reminded of his initial encounter with the sorceress and the genuine feeling of fear her powers had sown in him, he exhaled deeply to calm his nerves. Seconds later, the familiar slender figure slowly stepped into the camera's focus from the rear, an elegant golden back-frame secured to her tight form-fitting attire. The same bird's head mask concealed her face as she strode forward, the unsettled buzzing at once doubling in volume as she took the podium beside Deling.

Now bathed in the spotlight's glare, Squall could make out the various unusual effects adorning her headpiece; three fiendish curving horns to the left, a metallic silver comb-like fixture with dangling beads to the right, and a pair of circular ear pieces from which hung non-matching jeweled earrings, with a striped spiral sea shell fixed above the left. It was beyond any doubt the most unconventional and strikingly bizarre fashion statement he had ever seen. With the exception of the matching earpieces, it appeared to have been designed with no regard for symmetry whatsoever. Its intent instead seemed focused on conjuring an air of surrealism, with a touch of theatricality by way of the mask. Taking her time as if to savor the rising unease, she gingerly raised her right hand before her face, clasping the crimson facade and at last drawing it down inch by inch to reveal herself.

Squall sucked in another breath reflexively, as did the rest of crowd in apparent shock at the sight that had manifested on the screens. Her face perfectly complimented her eerie regalia, the unnatural yellow glow of her eyes standing out fiercely from the violet eyeshadow and lip gloss. He could not begin to guess at her age; while the relative fairness of her pallid features inferred to him that she could be no older than her early-to-mid forties, an intertwining network of pronounced veins spread along her cheeks, giving her a far older and more sickly appearance. Recalling Seifer's stunned reaction upon witnessing her remove her mask immediately before him, he now understood that no part of it had been exaggerated.

"I don't fuckin' believe it."

He turned away momentarily to face the originator of the comment beside him. Irvine stood motionless at his shoulder, mouth agape and eyes widened in awe, his stare unflinching from the sorceress' spooky visage. Twisting his neck to survey the immediate vicinity, Squall could see he was far from the only one to have adopted such a horrified expression. It truly was a sight seemingly plucked from a bad dream, and perhaps even one of his own, as the otherworldly glow of her eyes unnerved him to his core. He shifted his gaze to the podium proper, to assure himself of her presence before them all. As he did so, his eyes caught sight of a streak of blue shuffling to her side opposite Deling. Unsure of its nature from such a distance, he glanced back to the display screens, and promptly felt his own jaw drop in astonishment.

"What the hell is _she_ doing up there!?" he frantically hissed to the stupefied Irvine. Rinoa stumbled drunkenly towards the fore of the platform, her eyes appearing glazed over and lifeless.

"Yer askin' the wrong guy!" the cowboy responded. "She don't look like she's all there mentally, either!"

 _That idiot! Please tell me she hasn't completely ruined our plan…_

As he silently prayed that their efforts had not already been laid to waste by Rinoa's recklessness, the sorceress raised her gloved left hand high above, closing her eyes in concentration. A faint aura began to cluster within her palm, the dark energy lapping at her extended fingers as it began to glow ever brighter. The onlookers on all sides gasped in amazement and terror at the incantation, reeling back instinctively. The very next moment, a shock-wave erupted from her grasp, speeding through the air across the divide and passing over the gathered masses quickly.

Instantly, the pain shot through Squall's mind, forcing him to one knee with the rest of the crowd as a deafening choir of anguish rang out into the chilly evening air. His eyes rapidly began to cloud as a thick veil of darkness blotted out all before him. He could feel his consciousness begin to twist and malform under the strain of the spell, coupled by what sounded to be the faint whispering of a thousand malevolent voices in the deepest recess of his mind, tempting him to give in. Fighting as hard as he could to resist the probing assault, he compulsively began to channel his activated GF clipped to his belt. He visualized the flames, willing the energy to gather in his mental faculties, and before long felt the familiar searing sensation he had become so accustomed to over the years. Gradually, the fog began to dissipate, shrinking back into the corners of his vision before finally disappearing beyond the periphery.

Not wasting a moment, Squall spun to the still suffering Irvine on his knees and snatched him by the scruff of his neck with one hand. He rapidly pumped the raw, unrefined energy through his palm, fearing that he may well inadvertently summon his fiery demon entity through the amount of power he was expending. It engulfed the sharpshooter's body quickly, washing over him in a shimmering shroud from head to toe. The people in the square continued to writhe all around, forming a cacophony of agonized grunting and moaning carried on the wind. Some remained doubled over, others had at last risen to their feet, standing motionless amid the chaos. Before long, Irvine's own labored breathing began to subside, as he raised his torso upright and began to hoist himself back to his feet. Squall disengaged the stream of energy as he did so, removing his grip from the back of his neck.

"Th-thanks," he stammered, struggling to catch his breath.

"Whatever," Squall coolly downplayed the intervention, before suddenly realizing his soft-spoken murmur had been remarkably audible to even himself.

The square which had just moments before been consumed by the sounds of frenzied panic had at once fallen deathly quiet. The assembled townspeople around them had returned to their feet, none uttering so much as a peep as they looked to their attacker upon the podium in uniform stillness. There was no anxious muttering, no cries of terror, nothing to reflect the horror they had all miraculously survived. Only the sound of the sorceress clearing her throat before the microphone finally broke the silence, drawing Squall's attention back to her figure flanked by a smirking Deling and listless Rinoa on either side.

"Well!?" Edea finally spoke, her harsh and accusatory tone booming over the loudspeakers. "Is this not the fated night of terror I have so long awaited!? Show me my due respect, you shameless, filthy wretches!"

On command, the entire audience simultaneously erupted into a cheer far louder than any Deling had received. Squall covered his ears in surprise at the sudden surge in volume, understanding that the people's minds were no longer their own. Surely Rinoa had also been subjected to the same mind probing, as indicated by the manner in which she continued to sway unsteadily.

"Ah, what sweet irony," Edea continued in amusement over the ravenous ravings of her new thralls. "How you celebrate my ascension with such joy, hailing the very one you have condemned for generations! Marionettes tied to my will though you may be."

"This can't be happenin'!" Irvine gaped in awe. " _Tell_ me I'm not seein' this shit!"

"But alas, who have been the ones truly disgraced and mocked before the world? Who have for so long been puppeted about as caricatures for your own sick amusement? Since time immemorial, we sorceresses have lived bound to the illusion propagated by man, the foolish fantasy born out of fear and loathing. How you have adorned us in these dreadful costumes, to be vilified and scorned for the most heinous of charges. The terrible witches who set ablaze your green fields, who callously freeze your warm homes, who curse such _virtuous_ humans as yourselves by means of cruel rituals. And yet now, as one such wicked woman stands before you, as an ally to Galbadia, you have the gall to sigh in relief? Such disgusting hypocrisy! Have you no shame?"

The people below continued to hoot and holler wildly, rendered incapable of understanding her scathing words. Squall remained transfixed in amazement as a chill ran down his spine. He stood at the very epicenter of history in the making, left to hold on for dear life as the world as he knew it came tumbling down around him.

"Such a pity," Edea sneered. "How unfortunate that you would so easily let yourselves be wrapped up in such fantastical daydreaming. For I stand before you tonight not as an ally, but your new ruler! A new era has just begun."

"E-Edea?" Deling's voice came over the sound system as he gently approached her from the side of the podium. "Are you feeling alright? Ede-"

In a flash, her left arm shot out, seizing hold of the president's undershirt through his suit jacket. Instantaneously, lightning exploded from her grasp, lighting up the night as sparks flew wildly from Deling's violently jerking figure. Squall's eyes shot wide open in disbelief as he watched the gruesome scene unfold, the portly man's excruciating sputtering audible over the microphone as he was publicly electrocuted before the entire world. As if on cue, the video feed shown on the dual display screens swiftly cut out, to be replaced by all-encompassing static. That the broadcast control team in Timber had not seen fit to cut the transmission the moment she had attacked the crowd was the least of his concerns now. The lightning at last fizzled out, leaving Deling's smoking corpse held upright in her one hand. His skin had been charred almost completely black, his dangling limbs still twitching from the excess electrical energy.

"Reality is not at all kind," Edea menaced with blood-lust. "It is a cruel, unfeeling mistress, and one which every man, woman and child must face on their own! Such is the truth of the world, no matter how desperately you cling to your fantasies. No one can help you, so just sit back and enjoy the show."

She ruthlessly flung Deling's lifeless body away to her rear with a surprising amount of force for her bodily dimensions. The mindless cheering continued, as Squall continued to look on in sheer horror, now more disturbed than he had ever felt in his life.

 _It's like_ my _words coming out of her mouth…_

"Rest assured, you fools, your time will come. This is only the beginning. I shall continue to dance for your world of illusions! I shall dance for all eternity as the witch who brings you dread! Let us start a new reign of terror, and together, we shall create the _final_ fantasy, a world beyond the imagination of any mere mortal!"

 _What does any of that even mean!?_ Squall pondered, too taken aback to even feign understanding. Edea smirked in contentment high above, adoring the admiration of her captive audience, before making a sidelong glance to Rinoa's still trance-stricken figure beside her.

"Let us end this ceremony with a sacrifice," she hissed, raising both her arms out across the top of the podium.

A glowing light began to gather in her outstretched palms, as Squall braced himself for another spell. Two twin beams of energy loosed themselves seconds later, soaring harmlessly over the heads of the crowd to his surprise. He spun around to see the shots make impact at the apex of the Iguion Gate to the rear, and instantly felt his heart sink ever lower into his stomach. Had she indeed learned of their plot from Rinoa, and somehow uncovered the gateway team's position? Rather than obliterating the archway's top however, the beams merely remained stationary, focused directly on a pair of the numerous stone gargoyles engraved into its body. Both appeared to be molded in the image of large lizard-creatures, their sharp claws embedded into the architecture they perpetually clung to. And then, in what at first appeared to be little more than a trick of the light as the energy dissipated, the two began to move, shifting their frames downward and quickly clambering their way to the base of the arch.

They dropped from the wall and into the street, trampling innocent bystanders underfoot in their wake. Both began to charge, snarling viciously as they tore through the gathered masses, many of whom still retained some inkling of preservation instinct to clear the way. As they drew near, Squall could tell the monsters were stone no longer, their scaled bodies now a vibrant green and orange. They at last reached the gateway of the Presidential Residence to the fore of the crowd, and leapt high into the air over the spiked iron barrier. They landed on the building's side, their claws digging into the estate's facade as Edea took her leave from the platform back through the rear passage. Rinoa appeared to erratically stumble in place, clutching her head in her hands before slowly raising herself, her body language indicating she was only now aware of her surroundings again. The lizards scaled the building swiftly, and were upon her in seconds.

"Rinoa!" Irvine shouted in dismay. "We gotta get in there _now_!"

"You think I don't know that!?" Squall snapped, his heart feeling as though it would burst from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. "But we can't do anything until the gates open!"

"We don't got time fer that, dammit!" he swore, stomping his foot in frustration. "This fuckin' sucks! Ain't there any other way in!?"

"Even if there were, what good are we going to be to her without our weapons!?"

Squall knew if they could work their way to the entrance, he would likely be able to clear the gates with his Guardian Force utilizing the wind leap technique. It would require all of his strength to do so while carrying Irvine over on his back, but it was still not beyond the realm of possibility, and perhaps even the only viable option if they were to rescue Rinoa. In forsaking their assigned transport for the sake of the quickest possible entry however, the two would be left without their primary arms to defend themselves, and perhaps even forced into a confrontation with the sorceress before the parade had gotten underway. It would be a battle they could not possibly hope to win. Likewise, blasting their way in with the power of his summoned creature was out of the question, given both the attention it would draw and the resulting devastation it would wreak, likely resulting in even more civilian casualties. But above all, it would completely destroy their element of surprise in executing the operation, and lay the general's and Garden's plot to waste.

"Let's just get moving!" he commanded, barreling his way through the hordes of drones ahead. "There's nothing we can do but stick to the plan, and hope she's resourceful enough to stay alive."

"You've gotta be jokin'!" Irvine snapped, falling in behind him. "Yer just gonna leave her up there to fend fer herself fer the sake o' the mission!? That ain't right!"

 _But it's what's best._

"We're _going_ to save her!" he affirmed angrily. "But this is bigger than any one of us. We need to keep our focus on the assassination. After what we just saw, I shouldn't have to tell you that the entire world is depending on us!"

Beyond even the extent of his binding contract with Rinoa, and despite their series of blowouts over the course of the week, Squall had no intention of leaving her to die if he could avoid it. And yet, would recklessly rushing to her side be worth compromising their presence and soiling their only chance of eliminating the diabolical usurper? Did ensuring the safety of one person take priority over his duty, by which they would no doubt save the lives of millions? The answer was a resounding no. Such was the hopeless scenario he had been presented, to serve as the ultimate test of his worthiness as a leader. Should he allow his own emotions to wrest control of his judgment, as Seifer had, he would all but certainly meet the same fate as his rival, and doom the world to Edea's merciless rampage.

 _Why_ _am_ _I even getting so worked up about her?_ He wondered as they finally cleared the dispersing crowd and came to a rest far down the left-hand sidewalk. _It shouldn't have any impact on the way we carry out our mission._ _It_ _should be_ _such a simple choice… so why does it feel so_ _wrong?_ _She's been nothing but a nuisance since Timber. She got herself into this mess of her own volition, against her father's will,_ _and now she's just reaping what she's sown. Everyone faces life on-_

He stopped his thoughts in their tracks, remembering at once the company such a mindset had unwittingly affiliated him with. How could the very same philosophy he had lived his life in service to be shared by such a despicable tyrant? Had his existence spent largely in isolation somehow set him on such a path as well? Was he destined to one day become the very reflection of evil personified in the wicked witch he sought to kill?

 _No… good and evil aren't what separate us. It's our perspectives on the world, our experiences that define who we are. But… how could something like this be anything but evil?_

The patrol car screeched to a halt before him and the sharpshooter, the locks popping just as he snatched hold of the rear door handle and swung it open forcefully. His gunblade and Irvine's shotgun stood propped up against the rear of the driver's seat, their ammunition reserves entwined over top. Squall practically leapt inside, sliding over to the opposite end of the carriage and drawing the revolver-shaped blade into his lap.

"I can't believe she actually killed him!" the soldier in the passenger seat exclaimed as Irvine quickly filed into the back and slammed the door. "No one in their right mind 'round the barracks was willing to trust her for second, and we were right!"

"He thought he could play with fire, without having any idea how to control it," Squall grunted, passing his teammate his weapon and bullet belt. "What's done is done. Get us in there the _instant_ those gates open."

"It's gonna be a free-for-all," the driver responded. "The paramedic detachments are en route. As soon as that float clears the entrance, it'll be a clusterfuck."

"Then make sure we're the first ones through, whatever it takes!"

Squall opened the loading mechanism of his gunblade, reaching into his ammunition compartment with his free hand and filling the emptied chambers. He spun the cylinder back into place and attached the reserve to his belt, immediately beside the supply pouch which held his spare bandages and medical supplies. His heart pounded in his ears, his vision narrowing as the nervous energy threatened to overtake him. He clipped the sheathed weapon to his side, closed his eyes and held his breath in an attempt to calm himself. It provided him no peace of mind as time cruelly ticked on, Rinoa's untimely demise becoming all the more likely, were she not already dead.

 _Just let her be alive… I still have to help her liberate Timber._

"Hold on tight!" the driver shouted, shifting the vehicle into gear and tearing off with a monstrous rev of the engine.

Squall clutched the headrest tightly, pulling himself forward to gaze through the windshield. In the distance, a series of flashing red emergency lights began approaching rapidly from the eastern end of the square's main intersection. Closer still, a troupe of dancers clad in gaudy attire not dissimilar from Edea's own strode out from the distant gateway, following behind a perfectly uniform marching band as they proceeded straight ahead towards the Iguion Gate. Their movements remained graceful and completely in synch with one another, as they hypnotically swayed to the tune of the brass ensemble at the fore.

The massive golden gilded float brought up the rear, the twin sconces at its front ignited and burning brightly. To the rear, upon the throne flanked by angel's wings at its back sat Edea, the newly self-appointed queen of Galbadia. Before her, at head of the platform stood a second figure, tall and bedecked in a long grey jacket. As the patrol car drew ever closer, Squall was struck by a pang of familiarity at the wardrobe, to speak nothing of the short blonde head of hair atop. It was not until the man raised his arm to the darkened skies in triumph however, that his unease became stupefaction; within his grasp rested an ebony plated blade held in a manner befitting a pistol.

 _There's no way…_

A dead man stood proudly on the sorceress' parade float, his gunblade held aloft in celebration. He smirked contently to the brainwashed people below, feebly stumbling out of the way of the procession, not a glimmer of remorse visible on his smug face. Squall's jaw dropped in shock, nearly being thrown off balance as the patrol car abruptly pivoted away, aimed directly for the slowly widening gap between the outer edge of the gate and the rear of the float. Though the fleeting image was no longer framed by the windshield in front of him, it remained clear as day in his mind's eye all the same. Seifer was alive and well, and under the sorceress' command.

* * *

"Holy _shit_!" Zell cried out as the twin lizard creatures cleared the Presidential Residence gates with a pair of tremendous leaps.

Quistis stood by his side in abject horror, staring out the window across the sea of brainwashed masses to the elevated podium in the distance. The sorceress, identifiable from afar only by the gleaming golden back piece, had retraced her steps across the rooftop stage to the rear double doors, leaving the disoriented Rinoa to her fate. The once stone-cast reptiles scaled the estate quickly, the first coming to a rest at the top and lunging straight for her.

"She's doomed!" Selphie shrilled in panic, as the distant girl in blue frantically leaped aside from the vicious attack and scrambled towards the doors. "What are we gonna do!?"

"Nothing," Quistis sighed, turning away from the ensuing tragedy in pity. "There's nothing we _can_ do."

"The _hell_ there isn't!" Zell roared, spinning around and bolting for the ladder. "I'm going in!"

"Stop!" she commanded, his movements so quick that he had already begun lowering his bottom half down the shaft to grab hold of the rungs. "Think about this for a second! You don't even have a way of getting inside, much less saving her in time."

"I'll blow the damn gates open if I have to!" he shouted back. "Whatever it takes. I'm not gonna just sit around up here and watch her get mauled! I'd never be able to live with myself if I let that happen!"

"Even if you somehow manage to get inside, she'll be dead long before that," she bluntly informed him, her voice carrying no emotion whatsoever. "The only thing you'd succeed in doing is giving away our presence and destroying any hope of this operation's success. Which might be entirely down to us three at this point. It's more than likely that Squall and Irvine have been hypnotized with the rest of the crowd. If they can't make it into position to take the shot, _we're_ going to have to be the ones to do the job. You've seen what she's capable of. It's going to take everything we have between the three of us to have even the slightest chance of defeating her. I'm telling you, going off on your own will just make matters worse for all of us."

Zell remained clinging to the uppermost rungs of the ladder, his head bowed in loathing acknowledgment of her reasoning. Despite her frank delivery, it took a great deal of fortitude for Quistis herself to recognize, particularly when considering the position such sudden developments had shunted them into. A direct assault on the sorceress would surely be nothing short of suicidal on their part, even with the power of their Guardian Forces to call upon. It was to be a half-cocked last resort, and one she desperately hoped by some miracle would not be necessary in the long-run. The moment of truth would arrive with the lowering of the gates, their call to action dependent entirely on the sound of a single gunshot.

"I'm sorry, Zell," she began again. "But there are times like these where you need to be able to accept the cold, hard truth of the matter. It's part and parcel of being a SeeD. She got herself involved this mess, even after her father and I told her over and over to stay out of it. Now she's backed herself into a corner, and there's no one around to save her. It's just like that vile woman said: 'reality is not at all kind'."

The words pained her to verbalize, not dissimilar from the sort she would expect to hear from Squall, but such was the unfortunate situation they now found themselves forced into. Zell raised his head slowly, his hollow stare meeting her eyes with an unmistakable tinge of disappointment. Begrudgingly, he hoisted himself back up the ladder and rose to his feet.

"Understood… Operative Trepe."

He shuffled his way into the far corner by the gate controls, and seated himself on the floor in solitude. Quistis briefly turned back to face Selphie, her own eyes downcast in despair, before re-orienting her gaze beyond the glass partition to observe the ensuing chaos. The manipulated masses began to disperse to either side of the street, clearing a path for the oncoming procession. Further in the distance, the front entryway to the Presidential Residence slowly began to part, giving way to a rigidly uniform brass ensemble. They were swiftly followed by a troupe of masked dancers, swaying and frolicking to the tune of the march, and finally a golden parade float decorated by angelic white feathers.

The sorceress sat contently on the throne to the rear, undoubtedly satisfied with the vain festival of fear she had single-handedly orchestrated. The first observation of her dark powers in Timber had stirred a fear in Quistis unlike any she had ever experienced, leaving her with a feeling of palpable dread upon being tasked with the assassination assignment. It was only in those scant few minutes she had taken the stage before the people of the world however, that she had finally come to understand the true severity of their predicament.

First had been the all-encompassing hypnosis spell, from which she and her two comrades had likely only been spared due to their significant difference in elevation. The sight of thousands of oblivious townspeople suddenly rendered mindless sycophants had been nothing short of eerie, made all the more worrisome by the very real possibility that Squall and Irvine had likewise been afflicted. Then had come the brutal public execution of the nation's president, traces of smoke still clearly wafting up from his desiccated corpse on the platform even now. And finally, the animation of the life-sized lizard effigies, which had begun thrusting the full weight of their bodies against the freshly sealed double doors in the distance. The two broke through within moments and ravenously charged inside, leaving Quistis with only the comfort that she would not be forced to witness Rinoa's fate with her own eyes.

The cavalcade continued on their established route further down the street, as numerous patrol and paramedic vehicles swarmed the front gates from either side of the square's main intersection. Quistis peered down on the nearing parade float, shifting her vision from the haughty tyrant on her throne to the lone swordsman in grey standing at the fore, and promptly performed a double take upon sighting the familiar weapon held in his hand.

"Seifer!?" she blurted out in absolute shock, her hands fixed to the concrete windowsill in an effort to stabilize herself.

"What about him?" Selphie commented from her right, peering outside herself. Seconds later, her eyes widened in amazement.

"No way… it _is_ him!"

"Say what!?" Zell snapped to attention, bolting over to the window and taking his place at Quistis' left. As the motorcade drew ever closer to the gateway, the short head of blonde hair below became ever more pronounced, as did the ebony gunblade held aloft before the mindless hordes in triumph.

"That damn double-crosser!" the blonde to her side slammed his fist down on the sill. "And to think I actually felt _sorry_ for him!"

"He's probably just been brainwashed like the rest!" she reminded him, her own level-headed nature threatening to crumble in the face of her former student's fate.

She was at once relieved that Seifer's alleged execution had in fact been a ruse perpetuated by the government, and likewise horrified at his position immediately beside the sorceress. Regardless of whether he had indeed been rendered her servant against his will, it only provided yet another obstacle for the three of them to overcome.

"So, if we're really going to confront the sorceress head on," Selphie shakily muttered. "Does that mean… we're going to have to go through _him_ first?"

"It changes nothing," Quistis firmly announced. "It just means that now, more than ever, we have to make sure this ends tonight. Zell, you head on down and take point by the door. Selphie, keep an eye on the clock. I'll man the gate controls. We spring the trap when the float comes back around, and if there's no rifle shot, we charge. It might not much of a plan, but it's all we have left to work with. For Rinoa's sake… no, for the sake of the entire world, we must not fail."


	20. Chapter 18 - The Scars Remain the Same

18

 **CHAPTER 18 – THE SCARS REMAIN THE SAME**

The patrol car skidded to a halt with a screech before the glass-paned entrance of the Presidential Residence. Barely flinching from the abrupt shift in momentum, Squall steadied himself with one hand fixed to the headrest, and thrust open the car door with his other, nearly ripping it clean off its hinges. Irvine mirrored him on the opposing side of the carriage, both men hurriedly stepping out onto the inner courtyard as the sirens and flashing lights drew closer from behind. He paid the encroaching emergency response team no mind, rushing around the car's stationary frame and charging forward toward the three-leveled complex ahead. The gunslinger matched his pace at his side, their boots pounding heavily on the pavement in synchronicity.

"Hold onto my arm!" Squall commanded, extending his right appendage to Irvine without breaking stride. "Tightly!"

"Huh?" the sniper questioned, evidently befuddled. "Sorry bud, I don't like ya that wa-"

"Just shut up and do it!" he snapped, willing his frustration to subside as he focused on channeling the energy into his lower half.

He felt the rush of the wind gathering in his leg muscles, a stark contrast to the searing heat of the flames he was so accustomed to. No matter the nature of the conjured spell, it was always accompanied by the familiar mounting strain within his mind, before spreading throughout his anatomy to its intended destination. Knowing full well the additional weight differential he would need to compensate for, he poured in as much as his legs could contain to ensure they would make the jump. He began to pick up speed at an alarming rate, pushing the now clinging Irvine to his limits just to keep up. Finally, he slowed to bend his knees, and leapt with all of his might.

Squall soared upward through the air, far beyond the bounds of human capability, carried higher and higher by the wind's propulsion. The dead weight affixed to his side hooted in awe, the grasp of his arms wrapped tighter than a vice around his own. They quickly neared the vacant speaking podium above, just barely clearing its headspace before tumbling back to earth on the hard metal plating just behind it. Without the additional encumbrance, the jump would surely have carried him nearly as high as the digital time display above, leaving him with no remaining strength to conjure a flotation buffer to break his fall. Even now, having already expended such an excess of energy in warding off the sorceress' mind probing, he understood that he was rapidly reaching the upper threshold of his ability to use the Guardian Force within one sitting. Should he be forced into direct combat with his target, he would be left with only his own prowess with the gunblade at his side to fall back on.

"Thanks fer the lift!" Irvine groaned, righting himself hurriedly and drawing his shotgun from the inside of his long-coat. "Now, c'mon! We've gotta rescue her!"

Squall heaved himself up from the metallic roofing, and tore off across the open expanse to the open doors on the opposite side. The perfectly circular stretch of material beneath his feet, adorned with Galbadia's gear shaped crest brought a hollowed-out reverberation with every stomp of his steel-toed boots. Only upon catching sight of the various cautionary markings imprinted around its circumference did he realize it was the carousel resting below, yet to be raised up for the sorceress' return to her newfound estate. Deling's charred remains lay prostrate nearby, still smoldering from the mammoth lightning blast he had sustained. The thought of facing down an enemy possessing such monstrous power seemed inconceivable, much less without his own magical abilities to compensate for the difference.

* * *

" _Relying on charity to fight your battles for you will only get you so far, especially when that power can just as easily be taken away. The only thing in this world you can depend on is your own strength and skill as a fighter. That's something_ no one _can take away from you."_

* * *

The words of his rival – the one he had just seen moments before standing proudly by the sorceress' side – crept their way back into his subconscious as the two shot through the doorway and into the adjoining hall. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of a struggle echoing along the passage from the doors at the end. A series of bestial snarls and roars met his ears, prompting his legs to pump even harder. He charged past the telltale maintenance hatch ingrained into the corridor's left-hand flooring, its immediate importance now allotted a secondary consideration. No matter the ramifications of the sorceress having single-handedly usurped control of the nation, or even that his long-time adversary had been rendered her pawn, there was another equally vital concern that demanded his tending to. She was still his client, and as such he was still bound to protect her.

 _Please, be alive…_

Squall burst into a dimly lit hall swathed in sheer white drapery on all sides. The translucent fabric dangled about in tatters from where he stood to the rear, shredded by the sharp claws of the creatures. One of the two lay thrashing about on the floor to the right side of the room, its teeth gnashing wildly as it fought to untangle itself from the decoration it had been unwittingly ensnared by. The second stood hunched on the opposite side, salivating as it bore down on Rinoa who stood shaking against the wall. The fringes of her blue duster sweater had been torn to ribbons, revealing a set of fresh crimson gashes across her toned legs and the side of her torso. Her face was the epitome of horror, her eyes filled with fear for her life as she turned to face him. Her quivering lips parted to call out to him in desperation, only for her words to be drowned out as the lizard growled and pounced forward.

Squall reflexively opened his own mouth to shout in alarm, but was prematurely silenced by a second deafening roar beside him. The beast's body at once careened through the air with a guttural squeal of agony, and helplessly crashed to the floor on its side. He shifted his eyes back to his teammate, to see the smoking barrels of Irvine's shotgun held aloft, still trained to the creature's now writhing figure.

"I'll put 'er down if ya take care o' the other one," he quipped, swiftly pumping the weapon to discharge the empty shells from the two chambers. Squall complied with haste as their successive clattering sounded on the linoleum floor.

Drawing his gunblade from its sheath, he sped across the hall to the second feral beast, having extricated itself from the knotted drapery. It snarled viciously at his approach, hunching itself back for a lunging strike. Squall did not slow in his charge, as he hoisted the weapon over his shoulder in preparation for a downward slice, and unleashed it just as the lizard thrust itself at him. The sound of a second shotgun blast ripped through the hall as the silver blade met jagged green scales, and with a perfectly timed pull of the trigger, cleaved through the hardened exterior with ease. The diagonal slash sundered the creature's neck and a scant sliver of its upper torso from the rest of its body, both halves falling limply to the ground in a spray of unnaturally colored vital fluid. Turning his attention back to his comrade, he noted Irvine with his boot pressed upon the second slain beast's torso, the smoking shotgun trained down to the head steeped in a similarly tinged pool of plasma. Nearby, Rinoa had fallen to her knees in what appeared to be either exhaustion or shock, or more likely an amalgamation of both.

"Use the bodies to barricade the doors," Squall ordered Irvine, as he quickly sheathed his blade and hurried over to Rinoa's side. The young girl in blue remained motionless as he drew near, her wide eyes not deviating from their catatonic stare straight ahead.

"Are you alright?" he asked, kneeling down to her side. "Can you walk? We need to move into position before we're discovered. I'll help patch you up once we're in the clear."

Still, she budged not an inch, seemingly numb to the world even as blood continued to seep from the fresh wounds.

"Rinoa?" he addressed her more firmly. "Are you okay?"

"I… I was scared," she meekly murmured, finally moving her arm to seize hold of his jacket's sleeve. "Really… _really_ scared. I just… I thought I could help. I thought I could take care of myself, but… I couldn't do it… I couldn't fight alone…"

 _You're not ready for all this…_

"Just stick close to me," he assured her, and took hold of her wrist with his other arm to help her to her feet.

Slowly she rose, still trembling as she struggled to find her footing, and began limping with the assistance of Squall's shoulder back towards the connecting corridor. Irvine fell in shortly after, having finished piling up the corpses before the rear entry to the estate proper, drawing intersecting trails of viscera across the polished flooring to the doorway. That the fearsome beasts once cast in stone had been so faithfully brought to life was beyond belief. The threesome passed back through into the hallway, and made their way to the adjacent hatch set into the metal tiling. The sniper knelt down by its side, seized hold of the latches and swung the trapdoor open to reveal a steel-runged ladder. The drop was paltry in scale, no more than six feet down to a low clearance maintenance shaft. Irvine made his descent quickly, ducking his head slightly underneath the lip of the hatch.

"Can you climb?" Squall asked Rinoa, still leaning on him for support. "Or do you need us to lower you down?"

"I… think I'll be alright," she muttered, crouching down to lower herself. Instantly, a small gasp of pain escaped her gritted teeth, as she clutched at her clawed left thigh.

"Don't push it," Irvine told her. "Jus' let yerself down nice an' easy. I'll catch ya."

Seeming to realize the difficulty she would face working her way down the ladder, Rinoa lowered herself to her rear and draped her legs over the edge. She carefully slid herself along, until gravity finally took its course and she dropped down to be caught by Irvine's outstretched arms. Squall rapidly moved himself into position and began down the ladder, pulling the hatch shut as his head cleared the partition. With any lingering luminescence from the outside now cut off, the only light came via the orange emergency lamps on the walls. He touched down on the metal grated walkway and followed after Irvine and Rinoa, the former's head hunched under the ceiling as he pushed on.

The short corridor opened into a spacious circular silo, the metallic paneling covering the interior rusted from disuse. The top of a large mechanized carousel display sat in the center, ringed by eight mechanized mannequins designed in the image of a troupe of jesters. The eerie figures cast long shadows in the dim interior lighting, reflected off the elevated bronze crescent moon fixture glimmering in the center. Propped up against the base of the nearest mechanical dancer rested a lone scoped hunting rifle, the wooden make of its body against the cold steel of the barrel indicating it was not military issue.

The sound of hurried footsteps trampling on the sealed silo opening above, however faint, reached Squall's ears; the paramedic teams had no doubt finally made their way onto the roof to retrieve Deling's body. Little else could be heard through the thick plating which encompassed all sides of the cylindrical shaft. The blaring music of the parade procession had long since faded away, though would be sure to return shortly once the float made its second pass through the square from the west end of the surrounding streets. From there, provided Caraway's rundown of the operation could still be relied upon, it would circle back through the east end to the station, and begin its return up the main drag and under the archway. Bringing his wristwatch up to his eyes, he glanced at the current time: _19:3_ _7_.

"Less than half an hour," he announced, turning to the man on whom the fate of the entire operation now depended. "Irvine Kinneas, it's in your hands now. Make that shot count."

The sniper stood silently at the fore of the group of three, his head still bowed low beneath the brim of his cowboy hat despite there no longer being any shortage of head room. Without a word, he strode forward to the weapon, hoisted it from its resting place, and slung the strap over his shoulder. There was no inkling of the cocky attitude Squall had come to know him by since their first meeting on the Galbadia Garden grounds.

* * *

" _It's the nature o' the sharpshooter," he spoke, his eyes washing over the firearm as if in an unbreakable trance. "Comes with the territory an' all. We hone our instincts fer years on end. We learn to live with the loneliness, an' to love the thrill o' the anticipation. The pressure o' the moment, that instant o' tension just before the trigger's pulled, to hafta focus your whole bein' into a single bullet… it's a rough life out'n the field, and every man faces it alone."_

* * *

 _Oh, he must be concentrating._

For all of his usual bluster, Irvine did seem the type to take his line of work seriously. As he shuffled to the fore of the carousel and seated himself in contemplation, Squall turned to the still limping Rinoa and gestured with one hand for her to sit by the side of one of the jester mannequins.

"Come on," he insisted, reaching with his free hand for his medical supply pouch clipped to his belt. "Let's get those wounds treated before they become infected."

The girl obeyed promptly, lowering herself steadily to the statue's base. Squall knelt by her side, extracting a small bottle of disinfectant solution, a small sheer cloth and a handful of bandages from his stash.

"This might sting a bit," he warned her as he uncorked the bottle and poured an adequate amount onto the rag.

"I'll be fine," she quietly insisted, sticking both her legs out straight for him to begin cleansing the cuts.

He wiped and patted gently across the tears on her outer thighs, taking his time for the sake of diligence and adding further solution as needed despite the regular winces of discomfort from his de-facto patient. Eventually moving up to the talon marks on her waist, she pulled the shredded blue fabric aside to expose the likewise ripped black tank top beneath. The smudges of red had sullied both components of her attire, though the double layering had perhaps kept the creatures' claws from digging in further than they had. At the very least, none of the gashes appeared to reach depths comparable to his own facial scar, leaving promise that they would mend with time. Once thoroughly sanitized and left to air-dry for several minutes, he gingerly began to wrap the gauze coated bandages about her frame where necessary.

"Squall," she softly spoke. "Thank you. I'm sorry for… well, everything."

Now more than ever, her reckless meddling had truly irked him, to speak nothing of the genuine anxiety she had caused him. It had been many years since he had allowed himself to become so worked up over the fate of another. Not even Selphie's close brush with death in Dollet, his response for which had been the primary factor for having been granted his standing as team leader, had evoked such an intense feeling of emotional distress in him. Perhaps it was his professional duty as a Garden operative to protect his employer that had rendered him so bent out of shape. Or perhaps it was merely the thought of a helpless girl being savagely mauled that he could not bear to have hanging on his conscience for the rest of his life. Whatever the reasoning behind such an out-of-character response from him, he could not bring himself to scold her; he was simply content to know she had survived.

"It's fine," he brushed aside the apology, finishing up the wrapping on one leg. "What kind of SeeD would I be if I just left my employer to die?"

"It's always business with you, isn't it?" she sighed.

 _It's what helps to keep things cut-and-dry._

Emotional detachment and mental acuity went hand-in-hand in the field. To ensure his perception of every facet of the mission remained rational and cognizant, there could be no room for extraneous baggage to distort his judgment. He could not allow himself to be swayed by his own personal biases, lest the entire plot come crumbling down around him. Nor could he afford to become caught up in his own personal vendetta with Seifer, despite the likelihood that he would be forced to go through him should things not work out according to plan. Under the all but certain circumstance that he had been brainwashed, he was no less a victim of the sorceress than the manipulated masses in the streets.

Almost as pressing a dilemma for Squall was whether or not to inform Rinoa. Surely she of all people deserved to know the reality of the ruse they had been fed. In doing so however, it would likely lead to even more complications by adding yet another conflict of interest to the affair. She had already nearly thrown her life away by charging headlong into the lion's den, merely for the sake of attempting to make herself useful to their cause. Who could say what she would do if she were to learn of her boyfriend's true fate, and especially so if he should be forced to cut him down? He deliberated for several minutes more as he continued to service her, his heart beginning to pound as he weighed the ramifications of either option.

 _These wounds still being so fresh, she probably won't be too fast on her feet anytime soon,_ he assured himself. He knew he needed to tell her. Whether or not it were the best choice, it was clearly the right one.

"Rinoa," he muttered her name, beginning to apply the bandaging to her waist. "When the gates opened and the parade started… up on the sorceress' float, standing by her was-"

"Seifer?" she spoke, her tone remaining flat.

"You _know_?" his eyes briefly widened, momentarily losing his composure.

"So it's true," she mumbled, bowing her head in disappointment. "I didn't want to believe it, but… he's been brainwashed too, hasn't he? Does that mean… you're going to have to fight him?"

"I… hope not," Squall hummed as he quickly finished patching her up. "It would make sense that if the sorceress dies, her mind control will be broken. In the end, it's all up to Irvine."

He turned his head back across the diameter of the carousel, noting the sniper had not moved from his seated position by the fore. His eyes remained hidden beneath his hat, slouched over as he was with the rifle resting casually on his shoulder. Squall raised his left arm once again to glance at his wristwatch: _19:58_. His pulse quickened in anticipation, the anxious energy drawing him to his feet and across the as-yet stationary machinery to Irvine's side.

"Just a couple more minutes," he informed him, dropping to one knee by his side. "This is it. Are you ready?"

No response came from beneath the obtrusive cowboy hat. Not a muscle moved in acknowledgment of his query.

"Irvine?" he addressed the sharpshooter by name. "Are you listening? It's almost time. Are you all prepa-"

Squall cut himself short as he ducked his head low to peer beneath the brim, realizing that Irvine's face was fraught with peril. His eyes normally so full of brazen certainty now showed only panic, as his mouth rapidly sucked in short, shallow breaths. This was not the look of a man prepared to take the shot that would save the world.

 _Is he freaking out!?_

"What's wrong?"

"I… I can't do it," he mewled, his voice trembling as he fought to get each syllable out. "I-It's too much."

"What are you saying!?" Squall snapped, only just managing to keep his voice hushed from Rinoa's earshot. "I thought you were the top of your Garden's sharpshooter division? You _can't_ be telling me you're getting performance anxiety!"

"It ain't that," he trembled, his arms beginning to visibly shake as he drew the rifle into his grasp. "It's just… I can't kill her. I mean, c'mon, don't you have _any_ idea what yer askin' me to do here!?"

"Do _you_!?" he shot back, unable to contain his exasperation any longer. With now little more than a minute until the carousel rose and their target came into view, there was no time for discussion.

"You've seen what that woman can do! She's overthrown the entire government, brainwashed half the city, and nearly killed Rinoa! What do you _mean_ , you can't kill her!? This couldn't be more simple!"

"So, _you'd_ be able to take that kinda shot so easy?" Irvine muttered, his tone taking on a hint of defiance. "Without a second thought? No regrets?"

"In a heartbeat," Squall affirmed through gritted teeth. "And I _will_ , if you won't."

A stony silence fell between them, as the disobedient sniper raised his head at last to stare him directly in the eyes. Gone was the face of distress, replaced by what looked to be disgust and contempt. Out of the corner of his vision, Squall detected the gaze of Rinoa upon them both, a helpless bystander caught in the midst of their verbal crossfire.

"I always knew you were a selfish bastard," Irvine finally growled, his usual accent suddenly falling away as his enunciation became far more rigid. "But I didn't want to believe you really had it in you to be so heartless. And here I thought you might be the only sane one left."

"What the hell are you-"

Squall's confused reply was at once drowned out by the abrupt whirring and rumbling of machinery all around. The metal grating beneath their feet began to rumble, forcing him to steady himself as the central moon fixture illuminated and the carousel roared to life. The jesters began to twirl upon their fixed circular bases, sending Rinoa abruptly tumbling forward to duck the spinning leg of the one she sat beside. Before Squall could catch his breath, the platform jettisoned upward at an alarming rate, the sudden jolt knocking he and Irvine onto their stomachs in unison as the sniper rifle clattered loudly to the latter's side. The silo cover above had automatically parted, revealing the digital time display stretching into the overcast night sky. _20:00:11_ it read as the carousel shot to its apex, brilliantly coming to life in an array of neon lights.

Squall raised himself hastily to one knee, and peered out over the southern edge of the antiquated machinery. The streets before him remained packed on either side by idling pedestrians, kept out of the road by armored guards stationed at regular intervals. Whether they too had been hypnotized, or only continued to uphold their duty out of fear for their lives, surprisingly little had changed in the wake of the president's public execution. Further along the main avenue, the Iguion Gate stood proudly even in the absence of two of its gargoyles, and through the gated ingress, the marching band and dancing troupe pressed onward under its grandeur. The parade float trailed just behind, ready to pass through and into their trap at any second.

"On your feet, soldier!" he snapped to the downed marksman. "As your commanding officer, I am ordering you to take this shot!"

"I told you, I can't do it!" Irvine roared, hoisting himself up in agitation with the rifle still slung over his shoulder. "Don't you have _any_ idea who that is!?"

"She's evil incarnate, that's who she is!" Squall furiously spat. "You wanted to know if our enemy was pure evil, didn't you? What more proof do you need!?"

"And what happened to 'right and wrong aren't what separate us'!? You damn hypocrite!"

"So help me, when this is over I will…"

Enraged beyond words, Squall struggled to conceive of a threat sufficient to coerce the insubordinate sniper into action. His frenzied mental processing ground to a halt as the marching band's music suddenly ceased in time with an audible heavy clanking of metal on concrete in the distance. Swiveling his head in unison with Irvine, he stared across the square to the archway, its front and rear gates now lowered, trapping the float inside. His heart sank, realizing their element of surprise was slipping away by the second.

"Do it!" he commanded. "Or give the rifle to me! This is our one chance to make sure this ends _tonight_!"

"Sorry, but… I just can't-"

"Please, Irvine," a gentle voice cut in from the side.

Squall whipped his head to see Rinoa crouched beside them, her eyes wide in anxiety. She had crept up so quietly in the midst of their argument that her presence had barely even registered to him.

"It's like I said before," she continued, her voice remaining delicate as could be despite her obvious worry. "We're _all_ counting on you. If you won't step up and take this responsibility right now… who will? There's already been too much suffering tonight, and it's only going to get worse if we sit by and do nothing. So, please… take that shot, for Squall… for me, the others, and everyone else in Galbadia. For the world's sake. There's no other way…"

The sniper stood fast, his grip on the rifle's strap so tight Squall swore he could see the white of his clenched knuckles through his brown fingerless gloves. Seconds continued to tick by in silence, as he understood there could be no longer be any hope of the plot's success even should he manage to fire off a shot. The sorceress would surely see it coming, and easily deflect the bullet. His worst fears had become reality, leaving he and the others to lead the charge in one final desperate attempt to salvage the mission. As he began contemplating his method of approach, a brilliant flash of light erupted out of the corner of his eye, drawing his attention back to the gates.

A sudden burst of lightning exploded within the confines of the iron bars, splitting into four strains of ricocheting electrical energy which all impacted on the arched overhang with a series of clearly audible booms. A following blast of ice loosed itself from the pavement by the side of the float, shooting upward and tearing clear through the feathered backdrop of the gilded throne.

"The others!" Squall realized aloud. "They're attacking on their own!"

"Do you think that all together they can win?" Rinoa optimistically pined. "I mean, they _have_ to. They're all we have left now, right? I just… I hope they can take her down without having to fight… _him_."

"Listen to me," he ignored her, turning back to the stunned sniper. "We've just been thrown a life-line. While she's distracted with them, now's your chance to redeem yourself and save the day. It'll be harder to get a clean shot, but… well, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that you've got no one to blame but yourself for that. Don't let them throw their lives away for nothing."

Irvine grit his teeth in frustration, and reluctantly pulled the rifle from his shoulder. He placed the barrel on the edge of the carousel, closing his left eye as he peered through the scope with his right and adjusted the aiming reticle. In the distance, the magical bombardment had briefly ceased, as a collective of small figures hurriedly scrambled aboard the float to face down the sorceress and her bodyguard. They could have asked for no better diversion, with the attention of every guard in the streets below still in possession of their own mental faculties drawn to the gateway. The entranced pedestrians had likewise turned in observance of the battle, most not daring to stray from their huddled gatherings on the sidelines. The narrow gaps between each iron bar would be the only impediment to a swift assassination, provided their sniper would find the stomach to finally pull the trigger.

Squall idled impatiently by his side, both ears plugged with his fingers as he awaited the shot that would end the sorceress' self-proclaimed 'night of terror'. He focused his vision ahead to the float's fore, only just able to identify Selphie's brilliant yellow outfit from afar in the illumination of the lit torches to either side. Two figures stood by her, opposite the lone streak of grey and blonde with his weapon outstretched in challenge to them. Agonizing seconds passed, and still, even as Seifer prepared to defend against Zell's incoming first strike, there came nothing. Squall glanced back to Irvine, who remained frozen to the spot with his eye absentmindedly pressed to the scope.

"Sometime tonight!" he barked, noting the distinct tremble in the sharpshooter's supporting hand; the hesitation was still unmistakably there.

"Don't rush me, dammit!" Irvine snapped, his tone inspiring little confidence in Squall. "I… just need some time."

"You've had plenty of time, already!" he chided him, reaching out his arm to grab hold of the rifle's barrel. "Enough stalling! I'll do it myself if I have-"

He yanked the rifle hard from the side, startling the marksman as he fumbled to retain his clasp on the weapon, and with but a momentary slip of the finger, the long overdue gunshot erupted into the night.

* * *

"Well, don't I just feel special!" Seifer sneered as Quistis at last surmounted the elevated platform to stand on the float beside Zell and Selphie.

The smirk on his face was more wicked and scornful than any she had ever seen him wear, eerie in the shadows cast by the two flaming sconces to her back. The fierce blue of his eyes swept across the three of them in mocking, unfazed by the spellcraft she and Selphie had led with in their charge. And yet, despite his apparent delirium, his general mannerisms appeared no different from the norm. As opposed to the lethargic masses gathered on either side of the gates, Seifer seemed very much in control of his own motions and speech. Were he indeed possessed, there was surely a significant difference in the level of influence he had been afforded.

Selphie's initial blast of lightning had been readily reflected by Edea upon her gilded throne to the boy's rear. Her expression at first full of surprise at the commencement of the sudden assault now displayed little more than irritation. She spoke not a word in acknowledgment of their attack, leaving her bodyguard and their former comrade to command the stage in her stead.

"Did you come all the way out here just to see _me_?" he cackled with a theatrical swipe of his gunblade. "You didn't have to go to all that trouble! After the celebrations are over, we were planning to head back home for a friendly little visit, anyway!"

"You've hit a new low!" Zell growled, pounding his fist into his palm. "I don't give a fuck if you've been brainwashed, by the time I'm done with you, that scar's gonna be the nicest looking part of your face!"

"Zell, calm yourself!" Quistis intervened, sounding as though she were once again their instructor breaking up yet another innocuous quarrel. In reality, the ramifications of her attempted mediation now carried a greater weight than ever before.

"Seifer, listen to me! You're not thinking straight! She's obviously manipulating you, just like everyone else here! This isn't who you are, and you know it! Don't let her use you as her pawn! Fight her control!"

Her words rang out across the platform, escaping her throat in a series of anxious shrieks. Troublesome though he had always been, she had no wish to strike Seifer down if it could be avoided. The blonde youth shifted his gaze directly to her, his lips curled into a sardonic grin.

"Oh, Quisty," he menaced with contempt. "Still playing at caretaker to the bitter end. And now, more than ever, it's so clear what a pale imitation you truly are. You know _nothing_ about me, or _her_ for that matter. _My_ mind is perfectly sound. It's _you_ who've allowed yourselves to be twisted and reforged into Cid's precious army of obedient drones! It's _you_ who've been molded into expendable pawns for the coming war! But not me. My eyes have been opened to the truth of what SeeD stands for, and it's finally brought me to my destiny, to my romantic dream! I've become the Sorceress' Knight!"

Quistis was rendered speechless, unable to understand the meaning behind his words. She tore her eyes away from the smirking blonde and placed them on Edea yet again. The corners of her violet shaded lips slowly drew upwards into a sick, knowing smile. There could be no mistaking the predatory look of triumph on her deathly pale face. Regardless as to whether or not Seifer were enchanted by her witchcraft, he had been rendered a puppet all the same.

"Your dream?" Selphie spoke up, her voice meek and unsettled as she held her nunchaku before her at the ready. "But I thought… what about Rinoa? What about _her_ dreams for the future? I thought you loved her! And now, because of the sorceress, she's…!"

"Rinoa?" he snorted, the sound of the name dripping with apathy as it left his lips. "Don't make me laugh. She made a convenient enough placeholder for a while, and I'll admit we had some fun times together. She served her purpose well enough, but what's done is done. The only woman I need in my life is sitting right behind me. Good riddance, I say."

" _Now_ , I'm mad!" Zell roared.

In a flash, he was off, tearing across the red carpeted platform as a pair of earthen gauntlets rapidly materialized around his fists. Quistis knew she could not hope to stop him even if she wished to; the unbelievably callous way in which Seifer had spoken of his late girlfriend provided her no incentive. He raised his gunblade to parry the blow just as Zell's right fist flew through the air, the reinforced metallic body managing to hold fast against the conjured rock. His feet skidded backwards slightly as he fought against the momentum, only to release it in a quick dodge as the following left hook whipped on past him.

Selphie rushed in from the side to intercept their deftly maneuvering opponent, her nunchaku fluidly weaving through the air as she reached his position. He blocked each flailing strike in lightning succession, the cacophonous clanging of steel on iron ringing out all around. Zell quickly righted himself and charged back into the fray from behind, A single side swipe of his empowered fist met sheer air as Seifer ducked well ahead of the blow. To protect herself from her comrade's incoming attack, Selphie instinctively raised her weapon in both hands parallel to the platform, extending the chain as far as it would reach. Not letting the opportunity pass, Seifer viciously slashed upward, pulling the trigger of his weapon as it met the intertwined metallic link. Both halves of the nunchaku severed from one another instantaneously, throwing Selphie off balance from the sudden reduction of tension between both arms.

A swift kick to the young girl's legs followed, sending her helplessly tumbling backwards to the floor, both iron bars falling from her grasp. Quistis drew her whip with a snap as Seifer quickly rolled away from Zell's next strike, knowing it was her time to join the battle. With a single cautionary glance towards Edea, still seated on her throne in dispassionate observance of the battle, she prepared to rush forward to assist. As she took her first step forward, a lone roar of thunder sounded in the distance over the immediate sound of grinding steel on rough earth. And then, an earsplitting howl of agony loosed itself over the chaos before her. Zell instantly toppled down on his side before his opponent, his magical gauntlets disappearing in twin flashes of light. He achingly grasped for his right leg, still roaring unintelligibly in torture. Just below where his knee-length jean shorts ended, blood spilled profusely from a lone bullet wound.

" _Zell_!" Selphie screamed his name, having risen to her feet once again.

Without turning, Seifer abruptly trained his gunblade back to her, freezing her to the spot as he continued to look down on the writhing blonde. To the rear of the float, Edea slowly brought her raised right hand before her, conjuring a shimmering field of protective energy which washed over her seated figure. Quistis looked on in horror, struggling to process what had just occurred. Irvine and Squall had survived the sorceress' mind control, and moved to take the shot as instructed, only to have entirely missed their target and wounded their own teammate. All hope was truly lost.

"Looks like your wings have been clipped, chicken-wuss," Seifer snarled in triumph, raising his blade high for the killing blow. "It's been nice knowing ya."

Acting entirely on instinct, Quistis rapidly channeled her own ice energy as fast as she possibly could, unleashing a barrage of thick hailstones from her palm. The frigid projectiles sped across the divide, catching the would-be executioner off guard and forcing him to leap aside toward his liege. On cue, Selphie sped over to Zell's side, and began hauling him to the fore of the float. Quistis stepped forward into the resulting divide, placing herself squarely in the middle as the team's final line of defense.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" Seifer grumbled, having evidently lost his patience. "You've lost. Just give up and come quietly. We do want at least _one_ of you alive, so…"

He trailed off in mid-sentence, his face turning from irritable to confused in the span of seconds as he gazed straight through Quistis to her squadmates. Over Zell's regularly spaced heaving and pained gasps, a swirling hiss of energy reached her ears from behind. She craned her neck back ever so slightly, fighting to retain the focus of one eye on Seifer, to catch a distinct pulse of white light gleaming from out of the corner of her other. Her curiosity appropriately piqued, she turned her head further to determine its source.

Selphie knelt by Zell's side with her hand raised above the gaping bullet wound, the pure shimmering light shining forth from her palm. Before Quistis' very eyes, the stream of vital fluid spilling from his leg began to subside, as the leaden round slowly began to push itself outward from the flesh seemingly of its own accord. The boy with spiked blonde hair grit his teeth fast as the bullet was ejected, falling to the carpeted platform below as he finally let his breath go with a gasp. Quickly, the wound further began to suture itself, the bloodied body tissue regenerating rapidly in the trained glow.

Quistis' breath caught in her throat at the miraculous sight, the likes of which she had only observed once before in the presence of Xu. It still beggared belief, to witness firsthand the rejuvenative power of holy spellcraft, much less from one other than the commandant.

"My, my," a callous yet feminine voice carried itself on the air.

Spinning herself back around abruptly, Quistis looked to Edea rising from her throne at last, the white drapery hanging from her golden back piece swaying as she moved. While Seifer remained fixed to the spot in puzzlement, she strode forward slowly to stand beside him, a look of satisfaction plastered on her face.

"And here I had truly thought it would be necessary to hunt down every SeeD alive in search of that sphere. But to have it so kindly delivered right into my hands… will tonight's wonders never cease?"

"But," Seifer stammered, turning his head to face her. "It doesn't make any sense. _She's_ not the one who's supposed to have it."

"Yet she does," the sorceress hissed. "There can only exist one such sphere. And now, with it in our possession, we have no further need for an invasionary force on the Garden. We shall instead proceed with a full-scale missile bombardment."

Quistis' eyes shot open in alarm. She understood little of the cryptic machinations at play, but at the very mention of a missile strike, realized she needed to act quickly while the two were engaged in their discussion. She closed her eyes in concentration, furrowing her brow as she willed the icy chill to manifest itself around her. It would take every ounce of energy she could possibly pour into her summoned entity to have the slightest chance at overpowering Edea. No matter if she had to bleed the essence of her very soul dry to scrounge up enough power, she could not afford to fail.

"Understood," Seifer remarked dryly. "And what about our _other_ woman of interest? You're sure they won't be keeping her there?"

"It would be folly of Cid to do so," Edea sneered. "He has spent all these years keeping her whereabouts unknown from me, never staying in one place for long."

Quistis' energy continued to build all the while, threatening to break loose at any moment without her expert control. Suddenly, an all-encompassing stiffness took hold of her legs, breaking her concentration as she forced her eyes open. Glancing downward, her mouth hung open in horror as she discovered her entire lower half had come to be encased in stone. She could not move a single muscle in her legs, rendered helpless as the thick entombment grew higher to engulf her torso, arms, and finally reached her neck.

"Fortune has favored us immensely thus far on this night," the witch continued as the stone quickly made its final ascent and before long blotted out her vision. "Perhaps at least one of these insolent SeeDs will provide us the clue we seek."

"And on that note," the muffled voice of Seifer faintly echoed as the world slowly faded away. "I've got a feeling… on his way now… fun with him first…?"

* * *

The engine of the freshly hijacked patrol car roared as Squall floored the pedal out of the Residence gates and down the main avenue. He sped on towards the gated archway ahead, swerving to just barely avoid lingering soldiers and the occasional aimless hypnotized bystander dotting the road. He blared the horn to clear the way as he raced down the stretch at well over eighty miles-per-hour; between the others' direct attack and the failed sniper shot, there was no longer any reason to attempt a subtle approach.

He had left the awestruck Irvine atop the carousel with but a single comment,'Get Rinoa out of here', and leapt over the edge to the podium below. Making his way down the estate's face utilizing the last of his GF's energy to break his fall, he had landed with a significantly rougher impact than expected, only spared significant bruising by the grace of his heavy leather attire. He had pushed himself to his limit and beyond, and as he rose to his feet, cursed the notion that he had further still to go. In the ensuing commotion amid the paramedic detachment following the rifle shot, it had proven child's play to secure an idling vehicle with the keys left in the ignition. His gunblade now rested against the upholstery of the passenger seat, the only means left to him to persevere against the sorceress.

 _This is it…_

The headlights lit up the iron bars as the car reached their base. Squall slammed the brakes as he pulled hard on the wheel, the tires screeching as he dangerously drifted sideways and came to a rest just before the gate. The carriage jerked with the sudden deceleration, Squall's seat-belt being the only thing keeping him from hurtling from the driver's seat. He swiftly unlatched it and threw open the door, snatching his weapon up with his free hand as he stepped out onto the pavement. Not wasting a moment, he circled the hood of the vehicle and raised the gunblade horizontally, drawing it back across his left shoulder without breaking stride.

He slashed through the bars immediately before him with a pull of the trigger, meeting a reasonably firm resistance which ultimately proved negligible as the stainless steel sheared through the iron all the same. He darted through the opening to reach the fore of the stationary parade float, and sheathed his weapon once again as he hastily climbed atop the glass partition of the motorized cockpit. The lone Galbadian infantryman within paid him little mind as he trampled above, himself manifestly rendered an obedient thrall of the sorceress. He firmly grabbed hold of the carpeted platform above with his right hand, and as he reached up with his left to clamber aboard, felt his wrist seized in mid motion by an equally stiff grip. He stared up in surprise, meeting a haunting set of piercing blue eyes divided by an all-too-familiar scar.

"Please, allow me to help you," Seifer smirked, heaving him up onto the float with a vicious yank.

Squall toppled onto the red carpet face-first, grunting through gritted teeth upon impact. The sound of heavy footfalls retraced their steps to stand on the opposite end of the platform, leaving him the opportunity to raise himself to one knee. As he lifted his head to survey the state of his surroundings, he at once became aware of the ghastly scenery now resting on the elevated expanse. Life-sized stone effigies molded in the image of the gateway team stood among them; a stunned Quistis, her dangling steel whip still held firmly in her petrified grasp to one side, a horrified Selphie kneeling over top a perpetually wincing Zell to the other. The three sculptures appeared as if forged by a master craftsman, so detailed were their expressions and the nuances of their attire. Squall recognized these were no mere statuettes, as he peered ahead to their wicked artist seated on her throne with both arms crossed.

"What do you think of the decorations?" the grey coated bodyguard called to him from her side. "Don't worry, you'll be joining them soon enough. Once I've had my fill of you, that is."

"Snap out of it, Seifer!" Squall roared, pulling himself to his feet. "You've been brainwashed by her! Don't make me have to cut you down!"

" _You_ , cut _me_ down?" he laughed with a swipe of his gunblade. "Since when have you ever been able to beat me in one of our fights back home? I don't know what's funnier, that you think you can win, or that you have the nerve to call _me_ the brainwashed one!"

He thrust his free hand into his jacket, hoisting out a single metallic sphere from an interior pocket.

" _You're_ the one who's allowed that rat, Cid to brainwash you. From the very beginning, I always knew there was something rotten about SeeD. Training us to use these damned things, building up an entire army of impressionable children programmed to do nothing but obey blindly, and did you never once stop to question why? What the ultimate endgame of it all is? I'll tell you. It's all because of _her_!"

He motioned sharply to Edea at his side, before slamming the GF sphere down on the vacant arm rest in frustration. Her scowling expression batted not an eye as he stepped forward to stand before her.

"He fears her power, because he _knows_ he can't control her," he continued irately. "And so, for the past twelve years he's been building an army of naive, unassuming kids like us, for the sole purpose of hunting down and destroying her. _That's_ what we've been raised and trained for all these years, as nothing but cogs in the great war machine to carry out his bidding. But I won't let him get away with it. She's done more for me than that old codger ever has, and I'll mow down anyone who dares to lay a finger on her! And that includes you!"

Squall remained fixed to the spot, unable to comprehend the intricacies of Seifer's thought process, if indeed there were any to be understood. Though his mannerisms seemed to indicate he was still the same person he had known for years, very little of what he had just spoken abided by any train of logic he could follow. If the headmaster had deemed this woman such a grievous threat, as she had abundantly demonstrated herself to be that very night, what issue could there be in having organized an entire military organization to combat her? Further, the notion that he had fostered them all to become programmed drones was contradicted by the very lecture Squall had overheard him giving Seifer the night of the field exam. He had to have been brainwashed. No other explanation made even the slightest amount of sense.

"If that's the way you want it," he growled, drawing his own gunblade from its sheath to hold before him. "No mercy… just the way you like it."

"You know me too well," the blonde smirked. "Oh, what am I saying? You don't know a _thing_ anymore!"

Seifer charged forward with malice, his weapon drawn back for a horizontal thrust. Squall parried the attack with his own blade as the tip drew near, deflecting it and transitioning into a sideswipe. His rival was quick to block, the two sharpened slabs of steel grinding against one another as both strained to overpower the other. Seifer finally released his blade from the standstill and aimed low for a slice to the legs. Squall swiftly spun his own in a half circle, now holding the sword in a reverse grip to intercept and bat the weapon away. He followed through with his own upward slash, prompting Seifer to leap backward out of range. Hoping to keep the pressure piled on, he flipped the gunblade around and rushed forward with yet another slash.

The two furiously exchanged blows on the float for well over three minutes, in the midst of Edea and the SeeDs held captive within their stone imprisonment. The raucous metallic clanging rang out under the arching gateway, just as it had more than two weeks ago on the Alcaud Plains, only now with an intensity and furor to rival no other meeting of the two gunblades before. This was no longer a matter of rivalry, whether friendly or ferocious. This was a life-or-death confrontation between two swordsmen, with the fate of the world carried on each of their blades. Never in their most heated sparring sessions had Squall pushed himself to such lengths to win against Seifer. He could not and would not back down, even when faced with the sad reality that defeating him would quite literally be only half the battle.

With one mighty swing of the weapon, his gunblade came thundering down, embedding itself into the carpet where Seifer had just been standing. A swift uppercut connected with his jaw the very next moment, knocking him senseless as his fingers loosed themselves from the grip and he tumbled backwards, falling onto his back at the fore of the float. The tip of the blade remained stuck into the platform, leaving him utterly defenseless as Seifer made his approach. He scrambled to raise himself, when suddenly he was forced down once again by a mysterious weight, his limbs splayed out as he lay completely flattened to the floor. He could barely raise a finger, much less sit up against the invisible force that had bound him.

He maneuvered his eyes to the approaching blonde, his hand outstretched as it emanated a dark mist from its clutches. Squall's pounding heart skipped a beat at the revelation, not merely for the fact that Seifer had so casually broken his own vow yet again. He had just seen him moments before relinquish his Guardian Force to Edea. How could he have possibly conjured such a spell?

"Surprised?" he scoffed as he stood over Squall's gravitationally bound body. "It's like I said. She's done more for me than Cid ever could."

"Wh-what happened to… not relying on charity?" Squall fought to eke out through his clenched jaw. "Fighting your battles… like a 'real man'?"

"Yeah, I used to think that," he muttered. "But I've come to realize, that if there's one thing more important to me than self-reliance, it's loyalty. Not blind obedience, but _genuine_ devotion, to someone _worthy_ of it. You and your mercenary ilk have none, much less that sniveling old man you fight for. And so, if it helps me to deal with an ungrateful traitor like you, I'll gladly make use of this new power given to me. Power that easily dwarfs yours."

"You son of a-"

"Hush now," Seifer commanded, drawing his gunblade back in his free hand. "I could easily kill you right now. Be grateful that as it stands, you're worth much more alive. But before I pass you off to her, I think a bit of poetic justice is in order. Let me add another scar for you. I promise it'll only hurt for a second!"

"Stop!" a voice suddenly cried out, just as Seifer prepared to swing his blade high for the incision. His gaze trailed off over Squall's figure, prompting him to roll his own eyes back to gaze at the newcomer. From his flattened and immobile position, he could only catch sight of a streak of blue hauling itself onto the platform.

 _Please don't tell me she could be_ this _stupid…_

"Rinoa?" the blonde spoke as Squall's mind screamed in fury and despair. "So, _you_ came out to see me too? I'm flattered."

"Don't you have any idea what you're doing!?" she shrieked. "Who you're fighting for!? Snap out of it! She tried to kill me! Look at these wounds!"

"She did?" Seifer quipped, his tone reflecting curiosity rather than shock. He casually craned his neck back to Edea in response.

"Please don't do anything to this one," he requested with a laissez-fair attitude. "We can lock her up with the rest, but she's got nothing to do with this plot."

"What… what are you saying!?" Rinoa cried, sounding as though she were on the verge of breaking down. "What's she _done_ to you!? You can't be serious!"

"Oh, I'm deadly serious, _sweetie_ ," he laughed. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but consider this a break-up. I've got new priorities… and old ones. And once I'm finished with this mewling wolf, I'll be right with you."

He swung his gunblade into the air against the gateway's roofing high above, various chunks missing from the reflected lightning blast Squall had observed from afar. As the weapon reached its apex, a roar of thunder seemed to strike yet again in the distance, heralding his defeat. He closed his eyes tightly in anticipation of the new slash across his face, recalling the unbearable pain he had suffered once before. A bloodcurdling cry of agony erupted upon the platform, tearing the throat of its originator. Several adrenaline charged moments passed before he realized it had not been his own. The slice had not come. A clanging of metal followed, forcing his eyes open as he raised his head in alarm, only then realizing the gravity spell had been broken.

In front of him, Seifer clutched at his jacketed right arm in anguish, his gunblade having fallen from his grip to the carpet below. From his forearm spread a wide splotch of crimson, its epicenter revealing a gaping bullet wound.

 _Irvine!_

The sharpshooter, who he had derided for his cowardice and nearly come to blows with atop the Presidential Residence, had saved him. He merely sat for a long moment in stunned silence, as Seifer backed away only to fall to his knee in misery, continuing to howl uncontrollably.

"Squall!" Rinoa's voice called out as a pair of hands placed themselves on his shoulders. "Are you okay? Can you stand?"

 _And to think, I was just asking you that earlier._

"I'm alright," he grunted, rising to his feet with her assistance.

He turned to look her in the eyes, preparing to unload yet another reprimand, when he stopped. Her face was understandably wrought with horror and anxiety, but nevertheless tinged with a hint of relief. He could not bring himself to take that one lingering feeling of hope away from her.

"Thank you," he spoke instead, noting the brief twinkle of her eyes that passed before him. "Are _you_ okay? Those wounds… you shouldn't be moving this much."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I can fight if I'm with you. That's why I'm here."

"You stupid little boy."

Squall turned back towards his rival at the menacing hiss. Edea had risen from her throne and made her way to Seifer's side, still writhing in pain.

"I allow you your vain pursuit of glory, only for you to make such a fool of yourself!?" she chastised him. "Pathetic. Must I do everything myself?"

She turned her attention back to Squall and Rinoa, her gleaming yellow eyes fiendish in the illumination of the twin fiery sconces. She raised her left hand into the air above, gathering energy in a swirl of brilliant light, blindingly reflected off her golden back piece. Moments later, a half-dozen gleaming, razor sharp icicles hovered aloft above her grasp, each easily the length of Squall's gunblade still stuck into the platform between the two parties.

"You have caused me great displeasure on this night," she scathed. "For such insult, I _will_ have blood."

With a single forward flick of the wrist, the icicles shot forth at an unbelievable speed. Not hesitating for a moment, Squall shoved Rinoa aside, sending her tumbling down out of the trajectory of the projectiles. The very next second, his right shoulder exploded with pain, as the impact knocked every solitary trace of wind out of his lungs. Time slowed to a crawl, his eyes widened in shock and stupefaction as his bodily senses began to numb from the overwhelming pain. He craned his vision down, already hazy and disoriented, to see a jagged ice spike impaled through the right side of his body. A shriek of horror sounded from nearby, all but a murmur against the raging storm of his mind. He stumbled backwards in confusion, his legs feeling as though they would give out from under him at any moment. And then he fell, toppling from the float as his feet left the platform of their own accord.

He careened towards the pavement for what felt like minutes, all of time and space grinding to a halt before him. His glazed eyes remained trained to the float above from which Rinoa stared down in dismay, only to be reminded of yet another such fall he had taken. One from a jagged cliff to the crashing waters below, as a man who had thrown away his life to secure an escape for his comrades, and for even the faintest hope of pursuing his dream. Squall's comrades now stood helplessly as statues on the platform above, his employer left defenseless, and the world at the mercy of a wicked sorceress with the might of an entire nation's military at her disposal. His vision faded away into darkness, as one last lingering thought guided him into the abyss.

 _What… did I just die for?_


	21. Epilogue - A Moonlit Premonition

epilogue

 **EPILOGUE – A MOONLIT PREMONITION**

The shimmer of Balamb Garden's floating halo vied to shine through the large bay windows. The curtains had been drawn shut, leaving the darkened chamber with but a sliver of light as its sole source of illumination. Not a single lamp nor candle dared disturb the shroud of shadows, swallowing all the room had to offer from sight. From the elegantly quilted duvet laid across the plush king-sized bed, to the mahogany desk stacked from end to end with all manner of reports and paperwork, its every amenity had been smothered in obscurity, imperceivable from any not already aware of their placements. It had not always been so; merely an hour earlier, the large monitor situated to the opposite wall had broken through the dimness. And yet, the images displayed had shown a far greater darkness, a chilling omen of things to come. Despite his earnest wishes, the day long since dreaded had arrived.

Headmaster Cid Kramer finished pouring himself yet another shot of whiskey, courtesy of his living quarters' personal liquor cabinet. He placed the bottle back upon the desk in the scant available space not taken up by documentation, and swiveled his chair around to face the curtains. For as long as the video feed had remained static, he had mired alone in the comfort that the fiery brew had given him. Little else could nurse the shock and discomfort he felt, his mind abuzz with depressive speculation as he sought to offset it with a buzz of another variety. He casually slid the drapery aside as he took another sip, revealing the moonlit Alcaud Plains stretching onward to the southern shore in the distance. Meanwhile, far to the west, a great and horrific evil had stirred.

With the brutal and disturbing live execution of the Galbadian president, the camera feed had abruptly been shut down, leaving him with no method by which to observe the plot's implementation. The unyielding suspense that gripped him, though agonizing, was perhaps a blessing in disguise all the same. It had been a trying enough task to sign off on the mission at the administrative meeting four nights earlier. There was not a chance he possessed the stomach to watch the events unfold as they happened. It had ultimately not been his contract to draft, having been effectively strong-armed into compliance as was so often the norm. He understood how powerless he surely appeared to Xu each time such internal conflicts with the administrative body had arisen; as the acting commandant, she remained the only member of SeeD privy to such affairs. He had only considered himself fortunate enough to have successfully negotiated which of Galbadia Garden's marksmen to employ.

His ranking atop the sharpshooter division's roster notwithstanding, Cid knew there could be no other cadet than Irvine assigned to this mission. He undoubtedly possessed the skill and determination of a trained soldier to carry out his duty, and perhaps would even prove a better man than he to determine the right call. With a global superpower having been usurped by a sorceress, just as had come to pass two decades before, the choice was clear, if not easy. Yet even in the midst of the confusion such thoughts had caused him, there still lingered one additional concern: why had Rinoa been standing beside Edea? How had she come to be there on the scene, when she ought to have been under the protection of the three dispatched to Timber?

 _Surely they couldn't have somehow gotten involved in-_

A frantic rapping at the office door tore him from his worries, nearly causing him to spill the remainder of his whiskey down his burgundy suit vest. He hastily set the glass to the side of the bottle and rose from his desk chair. His aging heart pounded in his chest as he approached the oaken doorway, knowing a summons at such an hour could not possibly bode well. Had the result of the operation been determined? And if so, what repercussions would they be forced to bear? These questions among many others fought for dominance in his conscious mind, coming to a head as he twisted the knob anxiously and carefully pulled open the door. As expected, before him in the headmaster's hall stood a familiar robed aide. A troublesome Thorn in his side, sprouted from the root of all evil sown deep into the very foundations of the Garden.

"The Garden Master demands your presence. _Now_."

* * *

 _TO BE CONTINUED_

 _IN FINAL FANTASY VIII UNOFFICIAL NOVELIZATION_

 _VOLUME II – LUSEC_


	22. Prologue - The Family Man

prologue

 **PROLOGUE – THE FAMILY MAN**

"Uncle Laguna! Wake up, sleepyhead!"

The sudden shrill cry sounded from directly beside his left ear, forcing his eyes open in surprise as he felt a flimsy yet persistent tugging seize hold of his arm. Laguna shot up straight with a gasp in the spacious queen-sized bed, feeling the adrenaline begin to fire through his veins from the rude awakening. Slowly the familiar bearings which surrounded him began to take shape before his drowsy and disoriented vision. Faint sunlight peeked through the pair of slightly-parted curtained windows to his right, creeping across the wooden paneled flooring toward the muted-green rug in the center. A lone cedar chest rested at the foot of the bed, topped by the carelessly strewn casual-wear he had tossed upon it the night before. His clothing cupboard stood propped up against the left-hand wall, nestled between the door and a small oaken vanity table he had never made use of. And to his immediate side, a wide-eyed and beaming little girl stared up at him, innocently giggling at his frenzied reaction. Her shoulder-length brown hair framed either side of her devilishly cute, smiling face, reaching down to touch the collar of her blue button-up dress.

"Elle," he sighed deeply with a hand held to his chest to steady his racing heart. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sowwy," the mischievous little scamp snickered. "But there's someone here to see yoo!"

"Huh?" his head swiftly perked back up, as a nervous fluttering began to gather in his stomach. "To see _me_? What's this person look like?"

"I dunno," she absentmindedly ambled about with her dainty hands clasped behind her back. "He was wearin' funny clothes. He's tawking to Raine right now."

"Over at the pub?" Laguna asked for clarification, throwing off the covers and maneuvering his bare legs over the side of the bed.

"Yup! That's why I came over to get yoo! Am I a good girl?"

"No, you're not!" Laguna finally rose to his feet with an exasperated moan. "It's dangerous to be out there by yourself! What if a monster comes and attacks you? They'll catch you and then they'll suck all your blood out! If anything like that happens, Uncle Laguna's gonna cry."

"It's only next door," she pouted, seeming willfully ignorant of the exceedingly graphic warning. "And if anything bad happens, I'll jus' call yoo, Uncle Laguna, and yoo'll come rescue me, right!?"

"It's still dangerous, and… hey! Ellone, wait!"

The small girl had already turned the corner and fled down the staircase at breakneck speed before he could finish his sentence, leaving him standing alone in only his boxers and plain white undershirt. Laguna exhaled yet again, knowing his efforts to be in vain, and yet in spite of himself could not keep the smile from instinctively spreading across his features. So full of boundless energy and excitement as she was, she had long since endeared herself to him far too much to remain upset over such reckless behavior.

 _Like I'm the guy to be giving lectures about that sort of thing…_

As his impending moment of reflection reminded him of the mysterious visitor Ellone had mentioned, the same unnerving feeling of dread swelled up within him, prompting him into action. He strode over to the stripped casual-wear upon the chest and quickly donned the attire, a pair of long brown pants, finger-less black gloves, and a short-sleeved blue denim jacket left hanging open atop his undershirt. His clothing secured, he at last opened the lid of the large wooden storage container, the plated exterior of his trusted assault rifle meeting his eyes in the dimness of the still largely shrouded bedroom. With the sole exception of his dog tags nestled in the bottom corner of the chest amid a plentiful stash of spare ammunition cartridges, it was the only remaining proof of his time spent in service of the Galbadian armed forces. His uniform he had long since relinquished on the shores to the south, left to be consumed by the tides along with any trace of his existence. There could be no one else outside of the village who would possibly know of him, much less possess the wherewithal to track him down to such a remote region. Or so he had assumed.

 _[… am I dead?]_

 _The feeling's back… that can't be a good sign…_

He snatched the rifle from within and slung it over his shoulder, quickly snagging a small handful of clips with his free hand and forcing them into the narrow gap between his belt and waistline. He shut the chest and filed out of the room quickly, descending the staircase to the homey, single-room ground level of the small town home. A single blue wooden table with three matching chairs occupied the center, left barren of any tablecloth or dining effects. Cupboards and bureaus relegated for storing silverware, china and all other manner of culinary utensils lined the walls of the small kitchen space on the front side. A lean brick chimney-stack stretched upward from a small ingrained mantel set into the right-hand wall, the extinguished fireplace still bearing the remains of charred kindling left from the previous winter.

What cozy and relaxed ambiance the quaint lodgings may have otherwise provided was shattered each and every time Laguna would come to a rest at the bottom step, routinely turning his gaze to the stair-side partition leading up to the second landing. Dozens of bullet holes peppered the peeling and faded dry-wall, irreparably marring the otherwise comforting accommodations which surrounded him. They were not his own, nor was the house for that matter, and yet both served as a daily reminder of what he now held dear, and all that he had to lose in pursuit of the new life he had been graciously afforded. With not another moment's hesitation, he trudged across the living area to the front door, swinging it open against the light breeze awaiting him beyond and raising his hand to shield his eyes against the glare.

The bright mid-morning sunlight shone brilliantly across the cobbled central square of Winhill, the sleepy old-world village he had come to call home. Nestled far to the southwest of the continent, situated in the midst of acre upon acre of verdant rolling bluffs, it was as stark a contrast to the urban sprawl of Laguna's former life as he had ever experienced. Gorgeous floral arrangements of all varieties decorated the carefully constructed brick houses, gently swaying in the faint gust of wind sweeping along the lone main road leading out of town. A small bridge erected over a narrow waterway carried on to meet a winding dirt path running through the wide expanse of green hills, lined by several more picturesque homes and small establishments. The square proper was completely devoid of occupancy as he had been told had become the norm in recent years, leaving him to catch a brief flash of blue out of the corner of his eye as it quickly ducked through the entryway of the adjacent pub. He darted across the short stretch of cobbled stone in pursuit, stepping into the shade of the tavern's overhead awning and gripping hold of the door handle.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to go out on your own!?" a woman's scolding voice rang out as he twisted the knob and stepped into the establishment.

Its owner stood amid the grouping of small circular bar-room tables spread about, her hands on her hips as she stared down with disapproval at the suddenly mum little girl in front of her. She was outfitted in plain blue jeans and a white turtle-neck sweater, a yellow hairband cresting over top her head giving way to her long, flowing dark-brown hair. Though her face was presently fraught with concern as he had seen it many times over the course of the past year, her delicate features and light blue eyes had provided him comfort so many more. It was she who had selflessly taken it upon herself to help nurse him back to health, just as she had taken in the disobedient child as her own well before his arrival.

"But Raine!" Ellone whined. "It's only next door!"

"It doesn't matter," she firmly dismissed the girl's protest, crossing both her arms. "You promised me you wouldn't do it. Now, go to your room."

The deflated young child's head sunk down toward the wooden floorboards in defeat. She slowly turned away from Raine to make her way across the length of the bar to the staircase in the back left corner, opposite the bar proper. She raised her eyes slowly to meet Laguna's, her expression appropriately glum as she faintly muttered to him in shame.

"I got in twouble."

"Dat's 'cause you bwoke your pwomise," he playfully lisped back to her with a sympathetic smile.

"Laguna, speak properly to Ellone!" Raine suddenly snapped at him from beside the tables, her eyes going wide upon noticing the machine gun slung over his frame. "And how many times do I have to tell _you_ not to carry that thing when she's around!?"

"Looks like I got in twouble, too," he murmured to the girl, eliciting a giggle from her as the carefree, innocent smile quickly returned to her face.

"Now _there's_ a voice I never expected to hear again."

 _[Make that two…]_

Laguna raised his head at the comment, directing his attention past Raine to a remarkably slender figure seated at the far end of the bar. His jaw dropped upon finally taking notice of the man's visage, leaving him stunned as to how he could have possibly missed him even from afar. Outfitted in an unfamiliar form-fitting red and black jumpsuit topped by a muted bronze set of body armor, it was the signature three beaded dreadlocks trailing down from his short cropped hair which he would have recognized anywhere. A knowing grin flashed across his dark-skinned features as their eyes met, as did equal measures of relief and happiness begin to well up in Laguna's chest.

"It's been a long time, Laguna," he casually quipped as he brought the glass of red wine down to rest on the counter.

"Kiros!" he yelped in shock as he sped across the room, blowing by Raine before she could so much as open her mouth.

His long-time comrade rose to his feet to meet him, Laguna noting his eyes widening in alarm just before he tackled him into a bear hug. The stunned visitor stood limply in his grasp for a moment before finally wrapping his own arms around him in turn to reciprocate the gesture.

"Well, good to see you haven't changed a bit," Kiros scoffed as he fought to maneuver himself out of the grapple. "I was having a chat with Raine before you showed up, and it sounds like you've settled in here nicely."

"You could say that," Laguna agreed, taking note of little Ellone who had trailed after to stand by his side. "Elle, this is Uncle Laguna's friend, Kiros. He dresses kinda funny, but he's not a bad guy. Say 'hi'."

"Hewoo," she mumbled, evidently still wary of the unfamiliar man.

"Nice to meet you," Kiros crouched down to her level and shook her hand. "So, this here's your 'uncle', huh?"

"Indeed," Raine interjected, finally making her way over to the side of the bar. "And our resident comedian, to boot."

"Now _that_ doesn't surprise me one bit," he snorted, turning back to face Laguna. "Gotta say, life's been pretty boring without you as entertainment, my man."

"Hey, it's the first time you've seen me in, what, a year now?" he feigned offense at the remark. "And _that's_ how you're gonna treat me? I've been living a real productive life here, you know!"

"So I've heard. There's been a fair bit of talk about the 'Monster Hunter of Winhill' in the other little towns I've been to around this region. That's what brought me out here to take a look for myself. Had to see if it might be a certain someone I used to know."

"I'll just leave you two to catch up on your own," Raine acknowledged their freshly reinvigorated camaraderie, turning away toward the stairs with a faint smile of contentment. "Ellone, I changed my mind. You can come help me with the laundry instead."

"Okay," the young girl mumbled, quickly trailing after as her guardian made her way across the expanse of the tavern interior and began to climb the flight of steps.

Laguna watched as the pair ascended, soon disappearing from sight as they cleared the banister to the second floor landing. The moment they had reached the top, he returned his focus to Kiros, his previously relaxed expression falling away instantaneously.

"So, for real," he began, fighting to keep the nervous tremor in his voice from becoming ever more prominent. "You're… not here to drag me away for desertion, right?"

"Of course not!" his friend responded incredulously, picking up his glass from the bar for another swig. "What kind of heartless monster do you take me for? Relax, I'm not with the army anymore, either."

"Oh, good!" Laguna finally exhaled, hoisting the slung assault rifle he had instinctively grabbed hold of over his head and placing it on the bar. "When Ellone told me there was someone here looking for me, I got a little freaked out."

"Understandable," Kiros replied as he finished his sip. "But no one else around here has reported you? That thing's clearly military issue, so they've got to have a hunch, at least. And how did you end up all the way out here in the first place? I was sure you'd bit the big one back in Centra."

"Yeah," he sighed, preparing to divulge his harrowing tale. "I kinda thought I was done for myself. I'm still a little shocked I made it out in one piece. I managed to fight 'em off all the way to that huge crystal, and got thrown clear off a cliff by a group of their android soldiers… I'm pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes."

"But you lived," Kiros stated matter-of-factly, his unflinching stare fixed to Laguna as he set the glass down again.

"By some miracle. Hurt like hell, though. It felt like every bone in my body was in pieces. Everything after that's a little fuzzy, but I think the adrenaline of it all is what pushed me to swim my way to safety. I managed to climb aboard one of the ships they'd docked at the base of the excavation site, and just started north out of the crater. I didn't even care where I was heading, as long as I eventually hit land. I think it was about five days before I ran ashore a ways south of here. I left my armor on the beach, and just started walking without any idea where I was. By that point, I was ready to keel over from sheer fatigue and dehydration. I'm just lucky I came across a freshwater spring after a little while, or I might have actually wasted away out there.

"I managed to hunt myself some food, but it wasn't long before the pain came roaring back in full force. After another couple days, I just couldn't do it anymore. I collapsed, and honestly didn't know if I'd be able to get back up. One of the local farmers found me out in the fields, and hauled me back to town. They set me up in the vacant house next door, and Raine took it upon herself to help nurse me back to health. I was bed-ridden for more than six months."

"Damn," Kiros remarked, his expression appropriately enraptured by the story. "Only took about a week for me. But then, it sounds like you had it a lot worse than I did. And is that why you've started doing this 'Monster Hunter' thing? To return the favor?"

"You guessed it," he confirmed with a sigh. "It's the least I can do, especially since all the young working men went off to enlist before I even showed up."

" _All_ of them?" his friend balked in surprise. "In a little town like this? That's unusual."

"You'd think so… but that's a whole other story. What about you? What've you been up to all this time?"

"Mostly traveling," Kiros began to explain. "Trying my hand at a few odd jobs here and there, whatever I can find. It's tough finding stable employment with the state the nation's in these days. At least Ward's got something on that end."

"Oh, shit!" Laguna swore, gripping hold of the side of the bar to prevent himself from toppling over at the sudden revelation. "He's alive!?"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask that sooner," his friend replied with a look of disappointment.

"W-well," he stammered, the ghastly sight of his hulking former teammate's bloodied gullet flashing in his mind once again, just as it had in his nightmares for months following the incident. "I figured since you didn't say anything that he'd… I dunno, I just didn't want to go there. But that's great! What's he doing these days?"

"Well," Kiros sighed, clearly dissatisfied by his response. "I patched him up as best I could, and we rushed him back to base as soon as evac arrived. The surgeons managed to stitch up the wound, but… well, the damage he'd sustained to his larynx was beyond repair. He's completely mute now."

"You've gotta be _kidding_!" Laguna roared. "He can't talk at _all_ anymore? That's just… man, I can't even imagine how much that must suck, especially for a guy with his sense of humor."

"Yeah, he fell into a really deep depression afterward, and quit the army as soon as he was back on his feet. He's got a job working as a janitor at the D-District Prison. With his voice shot, it's about all he can really do now. It's the saddest thing, but at least he's found some way to support himself. I've been out to see him a couple times, and I'm getting pretty good at reading his facial expressions. Seemed like he was finally starting to come around last time."

"Well, that's good to hear, at least," Laguna muttered, his head hung in disbelief. "Still… hard to imagine him spending his days mopping floors. Talk about a wild career change."

"If you think that's crazy, then clearly you haven't heard what Julia's been up to these days, either."

"What!?" his head shot up in surprise. "What's she been doing?"

"I suppose you haven't turned on the radio lately, then," Kiros smiled slyly. "She's officially hit the big time. Julia Heartilly, Galbadia's newest singing sensation."

"Seriously!?" he gaped. "She made it!? That's fantastic! She told me all about how it was her dream to become a singer one day!"

"Well, wish granted. She's got this one song that's getting played everywhere. Seriously, you can't so much as walk down the street back in Deling City without hearing it."

Laguna smiled, recalling his fateful meeting with the woman he had admired, and now content with the knowledge that she had managed to fulfill her deepest desire. Though his own may have fallen by the wayside in the time since their night spent together, he had managed to find his own sense of belonging in the company of his newfound familial unit. So long as he had the assurance of waking each morning to find Ellone's beaming face waiting for him next door, little else mattered.

"She's getting married in a couple of months," Kiros snapped him back from his daydreaming. "To the general, believe it or not."

"Caraway!?" he reeled in surprise. "How the hell does _that_ work!?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. The world's a crazy place, sometimes."

 _[What…?]_

" _Sometimes_?" Laguna snorted, ignoring the persistent strange sensation and collecting his composure with far greater ease than he would have likely been able to manage a year earlier. "But if that's where her heart truly lies. As long as she's happy, that's all that matters."

"Is it really?" Kiros mused, a single eyebrow cocked in skepticism. "Of every reaction I was expecting to get out of you with that news, that definitely wasn't on my list. Just doesn't seem like the you I used to know."

"Well, I'm _not_ the same guy I was back then," he affirmed, straightening his posture as he rose from his perpetual slouch against the counter. "Settling in around here's given me the fresh start I've been needing for years. I've got new priorities now, a whole new lease on life."

"And it seems like a whole new someone to fawn over too, huh?" his friend chuckled with a not-so-subtle glance toward the tavern stairs.

"Why do you always gotta assume everything I do has some ulterior motive?" Laguna dismissed the implication with a snort. "If you wanna see for yourself, why don't we head on out and do some hunting right now?"

"You know I'm just yanking your chain like the good old days, right?" Kiros smirked, downing the last of his red wine before setting the glass down for a final time. "But sure, I could use a bit of exercise. It's been a while since I've had to do any serious fighting."

"Great! Just let me run upstairs and tell Raine we're heading out."

Laguna swiftly turned away from the bar and crossed the room to the flight of stairs, Kiros trailing off toward the door in tandem. As he climbed upward, taking hold of the wooden banister for support, a pair of conversing voices came into earshot from the landing above. He instinctively slowed his ascent, muffling his footsteps and training his auditory senses as his eyes cleared the boundary where ceiling and floor exchanged places.

As was the case with his own abdicated dwelling, the tavern's upper level was comprised entirely of a single large multi-purpose room. A pair of beds, one large and one small rested against the northern side of the house, separated by a lone nightstand and a window overlooking the spacious fields of green just beyond, while a tall clothing cupboard and vanity dresser stood along the eastern wall. The center gave way to a pair of lounge seats and a lengthy cushioned couch set around a circular coffee table, upon which the two young ladies sat surrounded by various articles of folded attire.

"Raine," the high-pitched voice of a four year-old mewled. "Aren't yoo gonna marry Uncle Laguna?"

"A guy like that?" her caretaker's voice responded with a curt tone, so biting and sharp as to pierce through their eavesdropper's chest and wrest his heart. "How could I ever? He was carried in here crying like a baby, and I was the one stupid enough to step up and take care of him. I can't stand his crude way of speaking, and how every time I try to have a serious conversation, he just avoids it."

"But he's really nice!" Ellone insisted desperately, bolting to her feet from the sofa. "I really, really like him! Raine, Uncle Laguna and Elle should all be together!"

"Oh, Ellone," she sighed, her head bowed in melancholy. "I just don't think it could ever work. He says he wants to be there for us, and I believe he means it. But I feel like… like he doesn't have it in him to stay settled down in a quiet little country town like this all his life. I think what he really wants to do is travel all over the world. Some people are just like that, always looking for adventure and excitement, never wanting to be tied down to one place or person… oh, it makes me so mad!"

"You don't like him?" the girl asked meekly.

 _[Why am I being forced to listen to all of this?]_

The question hung in the air for an uncomfortably long span of time, leaving Laguna standing frozen upon the stairs in uncertainty. As painful as they were for him to hear, Raine's concerns were not without merit. His six month-long road to recovery had indefinitely postponed his journalistic aspirations, as had his sense of honor to repay his gracious host and fellow townspeople for their hospitality. And yet, could he ever truly live a life of personal fulfillment and satisfaction at the cost of his only abiding dream? For as much as he had come to care for the two of them, he could not in good conscience discount the possibility that he would one day find the urge too tempting to keep contained.

"I do," Raine finally answered, her voice audibly shaky as she fought to keep her emotions under control. "I feel the same as you, Ellone. I really do. I wish it were really that simple… but it's not…"

Laguna carefully backed up down the stairs into the tavern proper, taking great pains to remain silent. After several moments, he began to stomp on the bottom step repeatedly before finally resuming his ascent, strolling upward at a leisurely pace. Raine quickly righted her slouched posture as he stepped onto the second floor landing, rising to meet him.

"Is everything all right?" she asked him, her voice still not entirely devoid of a slight warble.

"Yes, Commander!" he suddenly snapped into a mock salute with a grin. "Permission requested to take new recruit Kiros out on a monster-patrol!"

"Yay!" Ellone cheered with a pumped fist raised into the air. "Go get 'em, Uncle Laguna!"

"Thank you, Assistant Commander Ellone!" he smiled with a wink.

"Permission granted," Raine played along with the routine. "Just be back by noon for lunch."

"Yes, ma'am," he fell out of the salute and turned away, preparing to retrace his steps down to the bottom floor.

"And Laguna?" she bade him to stay a moment longer. He turned his head back to see her standing with her hands clasped before her, her eyes staring directly into his.

"Please… be careful out there."

"Of course," he smiled, leaving her and Ellone with a parting wave before continuing back down the stairs. His heart continued to pound in his chest all the while, threatening to send his confident facade crumbling to dust and exposing his crippling indecision for all to see.

He willed himself to calm his nerves as he strode back over to the bar and retrieved his machine gun from the counter, re-slinging it over his shoulder. He crossed the room back to the entrance and threw open the door to the town square, finding Kiros waiting for him on the other side. He had drawn both of his razor-sharp katal blades from their sheaths on his thighs, precariously twirling the weapons by their hand-holds impatiently.

"We all set?" he asked, ceasing the flashy showboating as he stowed the glaives in their leather holsters.

"Yeah," Laguna heaved, steadying himself as he shut the door behind him. "Come on, let's roll out. I'll show you my usual patrol route."

"Will do," Kiros quipped as the two started down the main roadway toward the small bridge and the humble abodes situated on the other side. "Oh, and there's one more thing I wanted to tell you, Laguna. You've heard of Timber Maniacs, right?"

"The magazine company?" he responded with unease at the mention of the besieged city, recalling the billowing inferno which had engulfed the dense woodlands of the region before his very eyes. "Sure. They're still in business? Even after the invasion?"

"Yeah, I've been back in the last couple of months, and there's been a pretty concerted rebuilding effort in the city since then. It's entirely under martial law, of course. Anyway, you were always aiming to become a travel journalist, right? I had a talk with the chief editor, and he said he'd be interested in any kind of freelance article related to world travel. I understand you've got different priorities now, but… well, if that's still something you really want to do, maybe you could go meet with him one of these days, pitch him a few stories of the places you've already been to. It could be your big break."

"Could be," Laguna muttered as they came to the bridge, stopping in his tracks before setting foot on the first wooden panel. "Well… say I go through with that… do you think I'd be able to stay local for the time being?"

"Maybe," Kiros frowned. "But that would kinda defeat the purpose of being a _travel_ journalist, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," he sighed, peering over the railing to the tranquil waters below, snaking along the canal bound west for the ocean. He had expected as much, and in light of the inevitability such a career path would lead him to, found himself paralyzed once more.

"Laguna… what's going on? Seriously, this isn't like you. What's going through your head?"

He hesitated, not daring to meet his friend's eyes, lost in thought as to all he feared to lose should the time eventually come for him to move on. He could hear the alluring call of adventure cry out to him from far down the winding trail ahead, only for his own ingrained sense of morality to keep him firmly rooted to the spot. He had truly come to love his new life, and could not bear to leave the two he now cared for more than anything else.

"It's just…" he began, a lump gathering in his throat. "It's like I was saying before, all the young men in the town went off to enlist a couple years back. But the reason for it… you remember the Wilburn Hill offensive?"

"Of course," Kiros confirmed. "Esthar's first attempted naval strike up north. I was sent in there with the reinforcement battalions to assist the coast guard. We intercepted their troop transports just off the Rhem Archipelago and blew them all out of the water."

"Well, what you probably didn't know is that they sent a smaller detachment down here right around that same time," Laguna grimly recounted. "They marched right in, and demanded every family in the village to hand over their daughters."

"What!?" his friend spluttered, his face suddenly contorting in shock. "Why? And why in a little town in the middle of nowhere like _this_?"

"Well, the theory going around is that Adel was looking for someone to take under her wing. And as for why they chose here, probably _because_ it's so remote and out of the way from civilization at large. Close enough to home to make a clean getaway, and far enough from the capital to not have to worry about any kind of potential skirmish."

"But the townspeople _had_ to have fought back against something like that!"

"Ellone's parents did. And they…"

He trailed off as the image of the bullet holes ingrained into the wall of his home resurfaced in his mind. With each morning, he would descend down the stairs to stand in their presence, and be reminded of the tragedy to have unfolded in that very room only a year before his arrival. Ellone's mother and father had possessed the foresight to preemptively hide their baby with Raine before she could be taken away, and made to face the consequences for their refusal to hand her over. She had been too little to possibly remember, and he too much of a sympathetic soul to forget the re-telling her caretaker had provided him.

"I…" Kiros stuttered. "I'm sorry. That's terrible."

"And that's why I don't know if I can really bring myself to leave," Laguna finally admitted. "She needs me… and I need her. I get scared sometimes. Scared of not waking up in that same old house. Scared of not seeing Ellone."

"Scared of not seeing Raine?"

"I just don't know what's happened to me," he gripped the bridge railing intensely, his eyes tightly shut in frustration and despair.

 _[I'd like to know that myself…]_

"Laguna… I was wrong. You _have_ changed…"


	23. Chapter 1 - Incarceration

1

 **CHAPTER 1 – INCARCERATION**

The familiar pounding in his mind roused Squall from his deep sleep, his eyes creaking open to meet a single dim source of fluorescent illumination set into the ceiling. His back rested on a cold, hard slab of metal, rigid and devoid of any sheets. The striking contrast from the spacious, plush mattress Laguna had awoken upon was stark and unsettling, to speak nothing of his disbelief at having once again been forced into the body of the dim-witted buffoon against his will. Despite all odds, the bumbling soldier had miraculously managed to survive the fall which should have killed him, just as he now found himself spared from the cold embrace of death. His eyes shot wide open as he suddenly recalled his last abiding memories. The heated duel with Seifer atop the parade float; the stand-off with Sorceress Edea; the unbelievable pain of the jagged icicle which had impaled him; and Rinoa's horror-stricken face peering down as he plummeted from the platform.

He sat up abruptly, willing himself to ignore the lingering dizziness, and thrust his black-gloved left hand into the right side of his open jacket. His fingers momentarily re-appeared through the gaping hole ripped out of the leather, exposing a tear of similar dimensions in his white undershirt beneath. There was no gash, nor any indication of puncturing through the bare patch of exposed skin just below his right shoulder. He frantically reached back with his other hand and fumbled about the rear of his jacket. He quickly located the precise spot where the ice spike had exited through his body, only to once again feel no indication of a rupture in the skin. There was no searing pain to be felt either in his chest or back, nor even the telltale sting of a wound on the mend.

 _Nothing!? How is this possible?_

Bewildered beyond belief, Squall quickly brought his arm back around to touch his face. His fingers brushed across the still prominent scar running between his eyes, reassuring him that he was in fact in his own body once more. Satisfied, he withdrew his hand and for the first time shifted his gaze about his dank and remarkably barren surroundings. The steel-plated holding cell had been constructed in the shape of a short hexagonal prism turned on its side, entirely devoid of furniture save for the solid slab that was his bed, and the toilet situated in the left hand corner. A mechanically sealed hatch was set into the wall opposite him, bearing a lone three inch-wide viewport. Pitch darkness awaited beyond the partition, leaving him with no light but the single bulb above to operate by. The temperature of the small containment unit was frigid, the ghostly specter of his breath taking shape as he exhaled deeply and pulled the leather jacket tightly around him.

Besides the unsurprising removal of his gunblade sheathe, intertwined belts, waist-side supply pouch and Guardian Force sphere, his signature lion-shaped pendant and matching ring appeared to have likewise been confiscated. Both could likely be chalked up as standard procedure so as to prevent any potential attempts of suicide by asphyxiation. Otherwise, his attire comprised entirely of black with touches of sheer white was precisely as he recalled, save for the plainly visible holes bored directly through the fabric. While their presence was evidence enough that he had not simply imagined the vicious magical assault, that his skin showed nary a trace of the grisly stab wound he had suffered confused him to no end. On top of everything, he did not have even the faintest idea where he was, or even if he truly were still among the living. He recalled his prior awakening in the infirmary of Galbadia Garden, following Laguna's perilous plummet from the cliff-side, which had led him to wonder if he had in fact passed on into the afterlife. Now, trapped within the freezing cold confines of the dimly lit cell, he considered once again if perhaps he had indeed been called on to face his eternal punishment.

 _No, you're letting the fear get to you! Pull yourself together! There's got to be an explanation for all of this…_

As he continued to mire in his anxious thoughts, a sudden heavy jolt shook the walls around him. He yelped in alarm as he toppled forward off of the bed, outstretching his arms to break his fall as he fell to his knees. Disoriented and dumbfounded by the abrupt impact, he vied to raise himself, only to stumble and fall again as a raucous mechanical whirring started up and the entire room began to move horizontally. He fought to steady his footing against the mounting momentum, until soon the cell began to rise vertically, forcing him to hunch forward on all fours to maintain balance. A rapid swirl of silver industrial plating flashed by through the viewport above his head as the ascent continued on for nearly half a minute. At last the containment unit began to slow, gradually coming to a rest at the apex of its ascent with yet another hefty jerk.

Squall heaved himself up from the cold metal floor, dizzily returning to his feet as the hatch to his side hissed open. He floundered as the room continued to spin all around him, only to be halted in place as a hand firmly clamped down on his left shoulder from behind. Moments later, a cruel and snide voice menacingly whispered into his ear, just as it had the morning of the SeeD Field Exam only two-and-a-half weeks before.

"Squall, you're pitiful."

No sooner had the mocking taunt registered to his weary mind, he found himself ruthlessly flung back across the width of the holding cell, his head sharply colliding with the edge of the bed. Stars appeared before his vision as he felt the vital fluid began to spill forth from his aching temple, running down his cheek.

"Take him to the torture chamber!" the familiar voice commanded again, growing ever more faint as his consciousness slowly receded back into obscurity.

Two fleeting streaks of orange were all he could manage to glimpse before his eyes finally gave way to the encroaching darkness spreading from each corner of his peripheral vision. His mind finally faded into the abyss once again, his only abiding comfort coming by way of a strange licking sensation upon the bloodied side of his face, repetitive and frenzied as it lulled him into the black.

* * *

"What was _that_?" Selphie puzzled aloud, echoing Zell's own curiosity at the noisy mechanized whirring that had just passed by outside the magnetically sealed door.

"From the sound of it, I'd guess that huge crane arm up top," he responded. "The one we passed by on our way in."

"I'd assume they keep something like that on hand for easy access to the lower levels," Quistis agreed. "You saw how deep that shaft went. Regardless, it's not important. Right now, we need to figure out how we're going to get out of here."

"If anyone's got any ideas, shout 'em out!" Selphie announced to everyone present.

"Don't mind me," Rinoa quipped bitterly from the opposite side of the room, her eyes not moving from the metal floor she sat upon. "I'd _hate_ to go sticking my nose in your business again."

Zell grimaced at the remark, meeting Selphie's gaze with a look of mutual discomfort. He stood in his plain sleeveless undershirt with his back propped up against the right-hand wall of the cramped holding cell, its steel-plated interior as bland and rigidly uniform as it was cold. Upon their swift confinement shortly following their arrival at the D-District Prison, he had been grateful to be permitted retention of his signature red and black colored jacket. The room's encompassing chill had laid siege to his exposed calves below his blue jean-shorts and little more. Still outfitted in her yellow overall-dress as she was however, his ingrained sympathetic streak had inevitably guilted him to lend his bulky attire to the petite girl within little less than an hour. She now sat against the wall adjacent to him, huddled up in a ball within the scant warmth his jacket provided. It was the least he could offer to repay her for having healed the bullet wound he had sustained to his right leg, a feat he still had difficulty believing.

Quistis leaned back against the wall by her side, evidently unfazed by the frigid climes of their surroundings. The thick brown warmers trailing down her arms from the pink zip-up vest appeared sufficient for the task of warding off the cold, despite Zell knowing full well such conditions were likely akin to a brisk breeze to a master of ice spellcraft such as herself. Perhaps under different circumstances, she would have seen fit to loan them to Rinoa, seated far across the other side of the room from the three, fruitlessly pulling her blue duster sweater tighter around her body. In lieu of the girl's continued defiance and fiery resentment toward the former instructor however, Quistis had presented her with no such kindness. Her face now contorted in disgust at the blatant verbal jab, the likelihood of a change of heart was slim.

Zell had been abruptly awakened with the dissolution of the petrification spell on the parade float the previous night. Drowsy and disoriented, he and his comrades had been hauled to their feet by a collective of soldiers and promptly cuffed with a set of familiar metallic bracelets, of the same variety as the one Rinoa had possessed. Any instinctual urge to resist had instantly fallen by the wayside upon noticing her on the platform by their side, her face a mask of horror as a pair of standard restraints were affixed to her wrists. His relief had quickly turned to concern as he took note of the series of tears and bandaged wounds running up her thighs and waist, and suddenly equal measures of shock as a limp black-clad figure was heaved aboard the float by a separate group of soldiers, a massive three foot-long icicle impaled through the right side of his body.

He had looked on in stunned silence alongside Quistis and Selphie, none daring to utter a solitary peep as they were swiftly relieved of their respective weapons and Guardian Force spheres. Seifer had stood by his liege's side opposite them, clutching at his right arm as he gingerly rotated his wrist, his eyes firmly trained to the limb in what appeared to be disbelief. At last, Edea had crossed over from her loyal knight's side to the limp Squall held in place by a pair of infantrymen before her. With a single wave of her violet-gloved hand, the ice spike had shimmered and dissipated in a flash of light. Her palm had begun to glow brilliantly, just as Zell had witnessed Selphie's own do so, as right before his very eyes, the bloodied and gaping wound in Squall's torso quickly congealed and magically mended without a trace.

"Take them away," the wicked witch had coldly commanded her newfound underlings, before turning back to Seifer. "I must be off to deal with the remainder of the ruling governmental body. I leave the interrogation proceedings to you. Do not disappoint me again, _boy_."

"As you wish," he had responded with a hint of ire about his voice, as the soldiers forcefully ushered the entourage of would-be assailants off of the platform and through the incised openings in the southern iron gateway.

The four were herded into the rear of a waiting Galbadian prisoner transport, Zell just having managed to catch sight of Squall's unconscious body being hauled into a separate car before the rear loading doors slammed shut. From there, it had been a lengthy journey due south, eventually transferring after several hours onto a military-operated rail line bound for the D-District Prison's private waystation. Seemingly ready to reconcile with Rinoa over their heated physical exchange in the foyer of the general's estate, Quistis had attempted to show concern for her apparent physical and emotional trauma along the way. Evidently still bitter over the ordeal, the girl had returned each and every attempt with blatant disregard and contempt, and had eventually ceased speaking with the three altogether. It was not long before Quistis herself had likewise returned to her previous foul demeanor, her face furrowed in irritation and indignation.

Even now, the two refused to so much as glance between one another, leaving Zell and Selphie the only two members of the group with any semblance of calm between them. Or rather, whatever could potentially pass as calm in the context of their current predicament. In the span of a single night, the sorceress had usurped control of an entire nation and executed its leader, and if what they had caught wind of from their confrontation were to be believed, the fate of their Garden now lay precariously in the balance.

"Where do you think they're keeping Squall?" Selphie wondered, breaking the stark silence again.

"I'd want to say they'd have put him in the medical bay," Zell opined, bringing his arm still bearing the Odine bangle up to place his hand on his chin. "But… well, after we saw her seal that hole clean up, I gotta wonder if he even needs it… by the way, thanks again for the bullet wound. You're a real miracle-worker, yourself."

"Oh, yeah, don't mention it," the girl embarrassingly blushed, retreating further into the jacket. "Speaking of which, it kinda makes me wonder what happened to Irvine."

"I've never seen _anyone_ other than Commandant Xu utilize holy spellcraft like that before," Quistis commented from her side, re-directing her eyes toward her. "And for that matter, I don't remember there ever being another GF with that kind of elemental disposition on record."

"Yeah, I guess I kinda won the lottery there, huh?" she acknowledged the comment. "For all the good it does us right now."

Zell opened his mouth to contribute, when the sudden hissing of the cell door swiftly stole away his attention. The steel partition swung ajar, as a pair of outfitted Galbadian guards stepped forward into the chamber, each bearing a black nightstick in their dominant hand.

"Which one of you is 'Rinoa'?" the head of the two spoke from beneath his visor.

Zell's vision instinctively flitted across the room to the girl in blue, her head raised from her hunched knees as she gazed about the cell in confusion.

"Uh, I… I'm Rinoa," she finally croaked out in a shaky voice, rising to her feet slowly.

"Let's go," the guard motioned her toward his comrade standing in the door frame. "The general has arranged a full pardon for you."

" _Excuse me_?" she spluttered, her eyes wide with disbelief at the boon she had just been granted.

Zell's own eyes bulged at the notion, suddenly darting across the expanse to meet Quistis and Selphie's. Both ladies' expressions perfectly mirrored his own apprehension, and the clear sting of betrayal he felt piercing through his gut. Caraway had assured the three of them that he would make use of every asset available to him to arrange for their release following the assassination plot. He understandably could never have expected Edea's public coup d'etat, which had led Zell to the assumption that any influence he could have potentially exploited to free them had died along with President Deling. Having now learned that he had still been afforded the leverage to pardon his daughter, it only raised the question as to why they had not been extended such a lifeline as well. Was it simply beyond his power to do so? Or had they indeed been literally left in the cold as Zell had suspected from the onset of the operation?

"You heard me," the armored soldier gruffly addressed the bewildered Rinoa. "Now, hurry it up! We haven't got all day. The rest of you, stay right where you are."

"Wait just a minute!" Zell piped up, removing his back from the plated wall. "Are you telling me the general specified _only_ her?"

"Did I stutter, _convict_?" he menacingly growled. "You'll keep your distance if you know what's good for you! Understand!?"

"Hey, all I'm asking for is my one phone call!" Zell moaned in protest as he slowly edged his way forward. "Can't a guy-"

His jaw snapped shut as the nightstick cracked across his left cheek, twisting his neck and throwing him off balance. His face screamed in agony as he toppled over onto the hard metal flooring, hissing and groaning through gritted teeth.

"Zell!" the three ladies shrieked his name in unison, the scuffling of their boots reaching his ears just as he glimpsed the second guard enter the fray. His free hand reached for his utility belt as he passed through the doorway and into the room, withdrawing a stun gun and holding it aloft. On command, the hurried footfalls ceased, leaving him helpless as the first guard towered over him triumphantly.

"Shut the fuck up!" the soldier roared. "Don't screw around with me, you little punk! You understand who's in charge here!? I'm asking you a question!"

Zell hacked in pain as the following kick met his midriff, sending him rolling over onto his back. His eyes met the fluorescent light bulbs set into the ceiling high above, appearing as a heavenly constellation of stars to his dizzy and discombobulated mental faculties.

"Stop!" he heard Rinoa's shrill voice reverberate through the room. "I'm coming, so just leave him alone, please!"

The ruthless attacker begrudgingly backed off, trailing away toward his comrade with one last sadistic smirk. Zell felt a pair of dainty hands take hold of his shoulders as Selphie's familiar curled hairdo peeked into view. Gingerly, she helped him raise himself up into a sitting position, his head still spinning as he saw Rinoa make her way to the door.

"So, I guess relying on daddy isn't _always_ a bad thing, now is it?" Quistis snidely remarked from her place by the far wall, her piercing stare fixed directly on the girl in blue. "Just so long as it's convenient."

Rinoa abruptly turned back with a look of disdain, meeting her eyes with a fleeting glance of murderous intent, but spoke not a word in return. With an irritated huff, she pivoted back around and followed her pair of escorts out of the cell. The door swung shut moments later, magnetically re-sealing with an audible hum of electricity.

 _We are so screwed…_

* * *

Squall's eyes flitted open weakly against the blinding glare of the spotlights trained from above. No more than three feet removed from his face, he could barely make out the otherwise dimly lit room around him. He strained to maneuver his arm to shield his vision from the blinding light, only to suddenly realize each of his four limbs had been bound by thick metal restraints. Still befuddled and disoriented as he was from the sharp impact which had rendered him unconscious, it was only after several moments that he finally understood he was not lying flat upon the floor. Rather, his body had been forcibly chained and held aloft against the firm metal wall, his arms splayed out and upward as if he had been crucified. A thick bandage had been patched upon his temple, just barely dipping down to obscure the corner of his right eye.

"Well, good to know you're a light sleeper," the familiar voice from before mocked him. "Now, the fun begins."

His eyes gradually adjusting to the intense illumination, he craned his neck downward and squinted through the brightness to discern the silhouette of his captor. Surely enough, from the surrounding shadows stepped forth the smug blonde youth clad in his trademark grey jacket; his long-time tormentor turned torturer, ebony-clad gunblade drawn and held at the ready in his right hand, the arm in question moving with a fluidity not expected for having recently sustained a gunshot wound. Those arrogant blue eyes divided by the scar Squall had cleaved between them washed over his limply hanging body with amusement, as he ravenously licked his lips with anticipation.

"I'm sure you can imagine what happens _now_ ," Seifer laughed with malice.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Squall shot back, instinctively squirming within the clasp of his restraints. "You've sold out everyone you've ever known, everything you've ever believed in, and for what? Power? Fame? Whatever it is, I hope it was worth reducing yourself to being that horrible witch's lapdog."

"'Lapdog'?" he echoed the insult with a callous chuckle. "I told you, I've become her knight! But if you insist, I think I'd prefer to be called her bloodhound. And as for that 'horrible witch'… dear me, Squall, just how heartless can you be?"

 _Heartless…_

The word resonated in Squall's conscious mind, leading him to recall Irvine's own biting condemnation of him on the carousel. The implication confused him to no end, as though there were some underlying intricacy to the situation which only he remained oblivious to.

"For one thing," Seifer continued, unabated. "I'd say a little gratitude should be in order, especially after she healed that hole in your chest. If it weren't for her kindness, you'd be in the morgue right now. And I'd be short a limb."

He twirled the Hyperion expertly in his freshly healed right arm, the tear in his jacket where the bullet had passed through still faintly visible to Squall's bleary eyesight. That Edea had seen fit to heal him of the mortal wound she had inflicted meant that she considered him to be worth more to her cause alive than dead. Now, chained to the wall, fully prepped for interrogation, he could only deduce that she thought him to possess some manner of important information. What it could possibly be, Squall had not the faintest idea.

"Miraculous, isn't it?" his arch-rival spoke, his eyes fixed to his repaired arm in amazement. "The divine gift of the sorceress, bestowed to humanity by the great god Hyne, creator of all mankind, and passed down from time immemorial by the chosen women who carry on his legacy even to this day. You know the legends, I'm sure… but then, I realize someone like you would be _far_ too educated to ever believe in 'fairy-tales' like that, _right_?"

He viciously swiped his weapon with assertion, the swoosh of the blade as it sliced through the air leaving in its wake a lingering silence for Squall to contemplate his tormentor's words. In the past, he had openly disavowed any possibility of the legends of Hyne and the sorceresses to hold credence, most recently in the company of both Seifer and Zell in Dollet. With all that he had witnessed and experienced first-hand in the span of a mere week however, he understood full well that regardless of the true nature of its origin, there could no longer be any denial of the power's legitimacy.

"With her power, I'm sure she could even mend these scars on our faces," Seifer smirked, suddenly raising his gunblade to just below Squall's chin. "But you know what, Squall? I've been thinking I'll keep mine for a while yet, just to savor the anticipation until I finally have my ultimate victory over you, man to man. And only then, once I've fully erased you, I'll have the last trace of your existence wiped from my face. It'll be the sweetest triumph. Just you wait."

"Why should I?" Squall menaced through gritted teeth, fighting to back his face away from the edge of the blade. "Let me down, give my back my gunblade, and we can settle things right here and now."

"Ooohh, sounds like someone has a death wish," Seifer laughed as he retracted his weapon. "Unfortunately, we can't have you go dying on us just yet. There's still so much we need out of that twisted, disheveled little mind of yours. So, be a good boy and give us the information we're looking for, and I'll be more than happy to serve you the warrior's death you want so badly."

"What could I possibly know?" Squall muttered defiantly, mentally preparing himself for whatever cruel method of interrogation he was about to be subjected to.

"What indeed," he smirked back. "Let's just cut right to the chase then. I'll spell it out nice and simple for you: Where… is… Ellone?"

Squall's heart skipped a beat as the name left Seifer's lips, and promptly leapt into his throat. His mind went completely numb, leaving him utterly dumbfounded as dream and reality once again collided, just as they had outside of the Galbadian Hotel two nights before. His tongue was frozen, rendering him incapable of mustering any response whatsoever to the unexpected query. To have stumbled upon the very scene of one of his numerous visions in the waking world had been jarring enough. To now hear with his own ears the name of someone so directly affiliated with Laguna was truly surreal, much less the idea that Seifer would somehow know of his dreams.

"Oh my," the belligerent blonde smiled. "If that isn't the guiltiest face I've seen in a _long_ time."

"I… I'm not even sure who that is," Squall stammered, knowing it to be in fact closer to the truth than any other rational response he could give.

"Squall, do you honestly think I was born yesterday?" Seifer scowled, any hint of amusement falling away from his face to be replaced with irritation. "I don't care how much Cid has brainwashed you, don't insult my intelligence. Just for that, you win a special prize."

He abruptly turned his neck sideways, re-directing his gaze to the far right-hand side of the room. Craning his own neck, squinting through the blinding luminescence of the spotlights, Squall could just barely make out a bulky, uniformed figure manning a control console beside a large generator.

"Just a light one to start us off," Seifer commanded to his shrouded lackey.

"Yes, sir!" a gruff voice responded from the shadows. "Here's some long-overdue payback for ya, you little punk!"

Squall opened his mouth in confusion to reply, only for his intended words to unfurl from his lips as little more than a tortured roar. The electricity surged through his body instantaneously, his limbs jerking wildly in place as he grit his teeth against the pain. Every nerve exploded in agony, wrapping him head to toe in a deluge of high voltage energy. As his muscles continued to spasm, he recalled the sight of President Vinzer Deling being electrocuted before his very eyes, and later the up-close image of his charred corpse as he and Irvine had raced across the rooftop of the Presidential Residence. As the pain slowly subsided, he wondered if he too would be destined to share the same fate.

"Consider that a warning," Seifer smirked. "Don't play dumb with me. Edea is well aware that safeguarding Ellone was one of the primary aims SeeD was founded to carry out. Now, let's try this again. Where is she?"

Squall remained perplexed beyond belief, unable to comprehend the manner in which his experiences as Laguna had come to entwine with his own reality. That the young girl the former soldier had desperately sought to take in as his own somehow coincided with SeeD's overarching mission seemed ludicrous. He could remember the re-telling of Ellone's tragic past which Laguna had provided Kiros, and how she had narrowly escaped abduction by the forces of Sorceress Adel. Based on the account, coupled with the scant other pieces of minutia he could recall from his time spent in the dream world, he could only conclude the visions had in fact been real life events from roughly twenty years ago. Unbelievable though it was to consider, for another sorceress so many years later to be actively searching for a girl with such a distinct name went far beyond the realm of coincidence.

And yet, even so, he knew nothing as to her current whereabouts, nor even what significance she could possibly hold for SeeD as a whole. The headmaster and administration had not mentioned anything of the sort to him at any point following his inauguration. Every single piece of information Seifer had just revealed was completely new to him.

"I don't know," he insisted, straining his vocal chords in the aftermath of the electric shock. "Even if I did, do you really think I'd tell _you_?"

"Hmph," Seifer snorted in derision. "You're on my 'tough-nut-to-crack' list, all right. I didn't think you'd talk so easily. Have it your way. Take it up a notch!"

Squall braced himself for the oncoming second round of electric shocks, tightly shutting his eyes in dread. His preparation was insufficient as the electricity sprung to life once more, sending him thrashing all about his restraints in anguish for several seconds more before being granted yet another reprieve. His head hung limply with his eyes to the floor below, panting heavily in exhaustion from the relentless torture.

"Remember this, if you won't talk, the others will! The instructor, the little messenger girl, or even the chicken-wuss… I bet _he_ wouldn't last three seconds!"

"They… they're all here?" Squall stuttered, somehow finding the strength to raise his head.

"Oh, you bet!" Seifer sneered, once again hefting his gunblade to hold the weapon extended just before Squall's chest. "But since I like you so much, I figured you should go first. I would tell you that you'd be saving them their share of suffering by just giving in now… but then, since when have you ever had it in you to care about anyone but yourself?"

The back-handed slight which normally would have elicited little more than an indifferent shrug from Squall now somehow presented a sting to rival the electricity. He had long since sought to live his entire life in service only to his own interests and well-being. Such a mindset had served him immeasurably through his years spent in pursuit of SeeDship, and even now, he still could not bring himself to regard it as anything but the fundamental truth of the world. In the end, every man was destined to face life on their own. Edea's own proclamation had proven she too understood it to be so. And yet, the intensity of his emotions as he had charged into the Presidential Residence to save Rinoa had been so real, as had been his relief upon having rescued her from the vicious lizard creatures, and her own intervention to save him from Seifer's wrath on the parade float. Now, strapped to the wall, helpless but to wail in torment with each successive electric shock, he understood he desperately needed the assistance of another to save him.

"Why so silent, all of a sudden?" Seifer mocked him. "This is the scene where you swear your undying hatred for me! The tale of the evil mercenary versus the noble sorceress' knight! Don't disappoint me now!"

"N-noble?" Squall sputtered weakly. "You think… this is _noble_? You're… nothing but a sadist."

"Maybe," the blonde sneered, retracting his gunblade once again. "And with that attitude, it sounds like you've got quite the masochistic streak yourself. Let's continue, the-"

"Sir Seifer!" a new voice reverberated about the room as the door on the far-left side hissed open. "Major… er, Lieutenant Biggs!"

"Dammit, Wedge!" the soldier manning the control panel chided his subordinate, Squall suddenly recalling just where he had heard the familiar voice before. "Can't you see we're in the middle of something!?"

"Y-yes, sir!" the uneasy infantryman responded. "But there are new orders from Sorceress Edea! Specifically for Sir Seifer."

"What kind of orders?" the grey-clad youth pivoted to face the door.

"The missiles targeted for both Trabia and Balamb Gardens will be ready to launch within the next several hours. Sorceress Edea has commanded that you be on scene at the base for final preparations."

… _what!?_

"Right _now_?" Seifer replied incredulously. "We've only just started the interrogation!"

Squall's mind instinctively tuned out what little of consequence remained of the exchange between the disgruntled knight and the lowly soldier. His thought process instead remained fixed on the passing mention of a missile strike, left to imagine the catastrophic carnage which would ensue if allowed to proceed as planned. Without any advance warning, the two Gardens would each be reduced to little more than a pair of smoldering craters.

"Fine," the blonde reluctantly acquiesced, turning to Biggs across the opposite end of the room. "You take over from here. I'll be expecting results when I return."

"Yes, sir!" the demoted former major saluted in turn from the corner of Squall's vision, his eyes fixed solely on his arch-rival before him. Slowly, he turned back around to face him, his face showing not an ounce of regret for the atrocity he was to be complicit in.

"Surprised?" he snorted. "It's a pity, really. I grew up there, too. But orders are orders, and Edea wants both Gardens destroyed. And once they're gone, that's when the SeeD hunt will begin. It'll be a blast, so don't go dying on me yet, Squall."

"You… sick bastard!" Squall roared with what little energy he could muster. Seifer paid him no heed whatsoever as he trailed away to the door, bypassing the shadowy figure of Wedge as he continued out into the hall.

"Well," Biggs snorted, finally stepping away from the control panel to approach his hanging prey. "Looks like _I'm_ the one who gets to call the shots now. Wedge, you man the console!"

"Y-yes, sir!" the soldier complied, moving across the room to the spot his superior had just vacated. "Just… I don't have to watch, do I? The electricity, well… it gives me bad flashbacks of Dollet."

"Oh, don't be such a pussy! Besides, once we're through with this brat here, we can always call up that little bitch next, and you can give her a taste of her own medicine."

"Why… why are you following Seifer's orders?" Squall questioned Biggs, attempting to sway the easily riled lieutenant's anger in his favor. "If you're so dead set on vengeance, _he's_ the one who led us up to the communication tower in the first place. _He's_ the reason you got demoted. Doesn't that make you sick to be taking orders from _him_ of all people?"

"You're brain-dead if you think I trust him!" Biggs affirmed vociferously. " _Or_ that slimy witch. No one in their right mind around here does, but like it or not, they're the ones running the show now. And if you think I'd trust _you_ any more than them, you've got another thing coming! Now spit it out! Where is this 'Ellone' girl?"

"I've already told you, I don't know where she is!" Squall insisted exasperatedly, realizing his only potential gambit to have failed. There was no longer any other recourse left for him but to accept his punishment as it came, and struggle to hold onto his strength for as long as he could.

"Wrong answer!" the lieutenant snarled. "Fry him, Wedge!"

The electricity surged through his body for a third time, his limbs spasming uncontrollably as fluid began to spill forth from his eyes. He simply could no longer bear the all-encompassing agony he was being subjected to, for the sake of forcefully obtaining information he did not possess. He soon became entirely numb to the pain, his senses fading fast as a distinct metallic pounding sounded in the distance, drifting further with each passing second.

"What the… on out there…!?" Biggs' gruff bellow faintly met his ears, before his vision blurred and gave way to white.

 _Good night…_

* * *

The external aching of Zell's battered stomach had finally subsided, only to be replaced by an internal throbbing to match. He had eaten nothing since the previous midday, nor had he possessed any inkling of appetite in the time since their failed assassination plot. His thoughts had instead been filled with persistent dread, both for the fates of himself and his fellow operatives, and what was to become of his home and everyone he held dear. The gloom continued to hang over him even now, yet he could no longer keep his rumbling stomach at bay. His body begged for sustenance, only for the cold, unfeeling prison walls around him to cruelly deny him what he craved.

Selphie and Quistis had each spoken not a word since Rinoa had been escorted out of their cell. The petite young transfer student remained huddled close by within the confines of Zell's own jacket, while the latter had relocated to the recently vacated opposing end of the chamber to further stew in her own foul mood. For all of his admiration of his former instructor's determination and resolve through such dark times, it was impossible to view the still ongoing hostilities as anything more than petty grudge holding. To her credit, she had given an earnest effort to rectify matters, only to be shot down without any further consideration. So she had treated Rinoa in the foyer of her father's home, and so she had received such treatment in return. Zell had no interest in picking a side in the needless infighting; though he himself had been prone to such goading by Seifer numerous times before, he understood their current scenario required a level-headed approach of the sort he had come to normally expect from Quistis.

The nagging hunger pains still eating away at him, his ears perked up at the sound of the door's magnetic seal disengaging once more. He shifted his eyes to the slowly opening portal, prepared for a second stand-off with another of the previous guard's ilk. Moments later, in slowly hobbled a sight he could never have expected to see. The stout feline creature stood no taller than three feet in height, covered head to toe in striking orange fur with fringes of red. The hair upon its head was wildly spiked, as was the tip of its tail, while its breast bore a magnificent streak of sheer white set against the otherwise fiery coloring. Its oversized paws carefully carried a hefty metal tray, upon which balanced three small bowls of shapeless and unappealing gruel.

"A moomba?" Quistis finally broached the query on Zell's mind.

He could vaguely recall having covered the creatures in his biology studies from many years before. Native to the northernmost regions of the vast Trabia snowfields, the omnivorous breed of mammal had been long since theorized to be an evolutionary descendant of a long extinct species. Despite their sharp claws, the animals were said to be exceptionally benign by nature, in addition to possessing remarkable levels of intellect for a non-human entity.

"Aw," Selphie adored the creature from afar. "It's been a while since I've seen one of these little guys. Never would've expected to see one so far away from home."

"Certainly helps explain why it's so freezing in this place," Zell acknowledged her point. "But… what's it doing? You mean to tell me they use these guys for slave labor around here?"

"You catch on quick," a snide voice announced itself. Its uniformed owner rounded the corner into the cell, quickly closing the door behind the pair. "Just take your slop and eat. Leave the bowls by the door when you're done."

"You jerk!" Selphie shot to her feet, clearly outraged by the revelation. "How do you people even sleep at night!? If I still had my nunchaku, I'd whack you into next week!"

"Selphie, calm down!" Quistis urged her from the opposite end of the room.

"Is that right?" the guard smirked, striding further forward into the cell to stand just behind the idle moomba. "In that case, maybe you'd prefer to eat off the floor!"

Without warning, he abruptly thrust his boot forward against the small creature's back, sending it toppling over face first with a squeak of alarm. The metal tray flew from its delicate grasp, clanging loudly against the floor in unison with the bowls, their disgusting contents quickly pooling into a thick, murky puddle in the center.

"How d'ya like _that_!?" the soldier roared, his foot pressed firmly atop the moomba in dominance. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before deciding to cop an attitude with me!"

"Who the hell do you think you are!?" Zell shouted as he shot to his feet and lunged forward to engage.

Recognizing the incoming assault, the guard promptly removed his foot from the helpless creature's spine and entered a fighting stance, catching hold of the fist in mid motion. Seemingly undeterred, he fired back with a sharp hook aimed squarely at Zell's jaw. The blonde brawler only just managed to dodge his head out of its trajectory, and swatted his opponent's right arm away with his left. Without the additional bludgeoning force of his metal knuckles to rely upon, he understood that the confrontation with his armored foe would require every ounce of his wit to overcome. He drew back his right arm for another low jab. The guard side-stepped and threw one of his own. Zell caught the fist, and the next one, the two forced into an impromptu stalemate as each attempted to push the other back. He stared directly into his opponent's slitted visor, cold and lifeless but for the gritted teeth just below, not letting up the pressure for a moment.

"Huh!?"

With a cry of confusion, the soldier suddenly disengaged from the stand-off, his attention drawn to his waistline. The moomba had risen to its feet in the interim, forcefully shoving its aggressor back in tandem with Zell. The unexpected tag-team effort sent him stumbling backward to regain his composure, only to just as quickly lose his footing as he stepped into the amassed puddle of gruel and slipped. He frantically fought to balance himself, but to no avail. He fell hard on his back with an agonized groan, the lower half of his uniform landing squarely in the small pool. On cue, both Selphie and Quistis shot from their respective corners, the former seizing the opportunity to lay down a beating on the downed soldier's face. Zell quickly rounded the puddle and took hold of his shoulders, restraining him as the pummeling mercilessly continued. Before long, the cries of pain ceased, the guard losing consciousness as his head drooped limply to the side.

"Well, I feel satisfied!" Selphie finally remarked, rising back to her feet and redirecting her attention to the moomba. "You okay, little guy?"

The small orange creature let out an adorable squeak in response, appearing to understand her concern.

"Looks like this is our best chance to escape," Quistis commented as she began to drag the soldier's listless body from the sludgy liquid, painting a wide streak of residue as she maneuvered him to the nearest wall. "Zell, let's get you into his uniform."

"You want me to put _that_ on?" he protested, utterly repulsed by the trousers soaked in viscous slop.

"You're the CQC specialist here," his former instructor explained, having removed her arm warmers to assist with sopping up the gruel soaking into the fabric. "Without our equipment, you're our best chance. If you can locate where our weapons are being held and bring them back to us, then perhaps we can attempt to fight our way out of here."

" _Your_ weapon, at least," Selphie moaned. "Mine got sliced in half, remember?"

"I guess you've got a point," Zell conceded, carefully removing the guard's helmet and placing it atop his own head to peer through the visor. "Still, talk about gross."

"It's the only option we have right now," Quistis reminded him as she proceeded to further strip the unconscious man of his attire.

"Unless you wanna skin this little guy and wear _him_ as a disguise," Selphie jokingly motioned to the moomba. Instantly, the furry feline squeaked in alarm, falling to all fours as it raced across the room to distance itself.

"I'm only kidding, silly!"

Zell quickly threw on the remainder of the navy blue attire without complaint, contorting his face in revulsion as he slipped into the pants. The fabric remained very visibly stained on the rear, still reeking of the bowls' former contents despite much of the residue having been wiped away. For their ruse to be successful, he would doubtless need to maintain his distance as much as he could from any additional patrols along the way.

"Well," he sighed, fastening the last of the silver plating in place over the uniform. "Looks like I'm off. I'm not gonna lock the door, so keep a close eye on that guy. If he wakes up, don't give him the chance to make a break for it."

"Rodger!" Selphie mock saluted, moving into position by his side. Zell about faced to the door, preparing to thrust open the hatch, when a light patting on his forearm drew his attention downward. The moomba stood on its hind legs once more by his side, playfully pawing at him for consideration.

"You wanna come with?" he questioned the fiery creature, to be answered by a clear-cut nod with a squeak. "Alright then, let's mosey."

Zell reached for the latch and stepped on through with his stout accomplice into the sprawling central hub of the D-District Prison. The vast circular expanse he stood upon circumnavigated a massive shaft stemming the subterranean facility. He had previously managed to sneak a glimpse over the thick titanium-plated guard rail upon having been ushered into the complex in the early morning hours. The gaping hole extended deep into the earth, far beyond the reach of the meager fluorescent lighting in his midst. Each level above and below comprised of an identical ring-shaped catwalk, lined by numerous matching cell doors not unlike his comrades' own.

Spotting no sign of any guards in his immediate vicinity, he quickly closed the door, intentionally neglecting to reactivate the magnetic sealing via the nearby control panel, and began around the circumference to the nearby ascending metal staircase. By its left-hand side, an open floor hatch gave way to a second flight of stairs descending further into the lower levels. On the wall to its right rested a steel-cast placard indicating the current floor: _'_ _General Population Floor 7'._

 _We were brought in from up top, so that's probably the way to go._

He climbed the steps in the company of the moomba to the next floor, finding no visible distinction between it and the level he had just vacated save for the differing number printed on the sign. The ringed catwalk was devoid of any life, every cell sealed in solidarity with one another. He continued on for another two floors still, each time plagued by the same uncanny sense of deja vu. Only upon reaching the eleventh level were his eyes met with a new sight as his head cleared the ceiling hatch. Two streaks of orange flew around the circumference on all fours, racing at top speed for the staircase.

In recognition of its fellow kind, the moomba to Zell's rear squeaked in surprise, rushing past him up the remaining steps and hailing its brethren to slow. The two additional creatures halted in their tracks, as Zell's seemingly began to communicate with a string of animalistic vocalizations. The head of the freshly arrived two responded with a stranger sound still.

"Laguna!" it cried excitedly, followed immediately thereafter by its companion.

"Laguna!?" Zell's moomba likewise repeated the strange phrase in what appeared to be awe. With a nod of seeming mutual understanding, the three swiftly turned and broke off into a sprint up the next flight of stairs, not waiting for Zell to follow.

"Wait a sec!" he called out, quickly tearing up the steps after the three vibrant balls of fur.

 _What the hell was that about? Did he ask them where our weapons are being held?_

Realizing the frenzied response could only bode well for his current situation, he tailed the furry beasts higher and higher, until he at last came to a stop on the thirteenth level of the prison. As opposed to each level he had traversed below, the silo's top-most floor comprised of only a half-circular design, equipped with a large industrial crane arm reaching out over the open center. Within its clasp rested a small hexagonal unit evidently designed for the purpose of solitary confinement, currently docked in a perfectly sized divot along the edge of the spacious chasm. The glass-paned control room sat along the opposite wall, nestled beside a rising spiral staircase leading to the upper-most levels of the complex. In the center of the stretch of catwalk thrashed no less than ten moombas, frantically dog-piling on a pair of hopelessly overwhelmed soldiers. Still more of the creatures quickly raced on all fours through the ajar metallic partition directly to their rear.

"Damn it all!" the commanding officer in red angrily swore through the impenetrable mass of orange hair. "What's going on with these stupid fur-balls!?"

"I-I don't know, Maj-, er, Lieutenant Biggs," the second nervously stammered as he fought to throw off a pair of clinging feline foes. "I don't remember ever hearing about… _these things_ throwing a revolt before!"

"I do _not_ need this right now, Wedge! That stuck-up little twerp is going to have my head if we don't get something out of… hey, _you_!"

Zell's awestruck observation of the madness before him was cut short as Biggs harshly addressed him from across the expanse.

"What the hell are you doing just standing there!?" he roared, painstakingly gesturing to the control room with one free hand as he struggled to fend off the onslaught of brightly colored pelts with the other. "Get in there and raise the alarm! _Now_!"

As commanded, Zell took off around the ensuing chaos and rushed through the doorway into the glass-paneled guard station. The moment he laid eyes upon the interior control console, he could feel a stirring sensation of pride and accomplishment begin to well up in his chest. A bountiful collection of armaments and accessories lay neatly arranged upon the neighboring desk. Among them resided a sheathed longsword with a hilt crafted in the shape of a revolver, a coiled black whip, two severed halves of a large red and gold gilded nunchaku, three silver metallic spheres grouped together with a peculiar bronze fourth, a set of belts replete with medical supplies and spare ammunition pouches, a gleaming silver pendant and ring each bearing the image of a lion, and most immediately applicable for him, a pair of metal-studded fighting gloves.

 _Jackpot!_

He hurriedly seized his weaponry of choice, quickly removing the plain black gloves of his appropriated uniform and replacing them with the familiar leather he had come to adore. With the Odine bangle still affixed to his wrist beneath the navy blue attire, he recognized that his Guardian Force would be of no assistance to him. He would instead be forced to place his trust in the moombas to even the odds of the two-to-one confrontation. With a quick breath in through his nose to compose himself, he charged back out through the door and into the fray, meeting the furious glare of Biggs.

"I _told_ you to sound the alarm!" he chastised Zell, still overpowered by the riot as he drew closer. "Get back in there _now_ , or I'll have your pay docked for the next month!"

"Looks like your arm's healed pretty well since Dollet," Zell smirked, swiftly whipping the helmet off to reveal himself to the disgruntled former major. Biggs' mouth hung agape at the revelation, rendered still as a statue even as the moombas continued to claw at his waist and torso.

"Now, let's have a crack at other one!"


	24. Chapter 2 - The Breakout

2

 **CHAPTER 2 – THE BREAKOUT**

"Laguna!"

 _Again? When is this going to stop?_

"Laguna!" the scratchy voice squeaked again to his left, as he felt a frantic tugging take hold of his arm.

 _Is that Ellone? No, it doesn't sound like her… where am I?_

"Laguna!" the voice sounded again, suddenly approaching from his far right, and then echoing at his feet a split-second later. Whatever it was that continued to address him by the former soldier's name, there was more than one present.

Squall finally cracked open his eyes, relieved to find that the blinding glare of the spotlights were no longer trained directly on his face. His body lay not strapped to the wall rack where he had been helplessly electrocuted, but on the hard metal floor, only realizing as he impulsively rustled his arms that he had somehow been freed from his restraints. Moments later, an orange-haired feline creature suddenly ducked its head directly in front of his face. His eyes shot open in terror, leaving him unable to suppress the instinctual cry of alarm that loosed itself from his throat. The animal backed away with a shrill squeak as he shot upright, quickly bolting to his feet. Adrenaline surging through his veins, he forced himself to brush aside any trace of fatigue and leapt into a fighting stance. His eyes anxiously darted about the torture room, quickly coming to the horrific understanding that he was surrounded.

Five of the small bi-pedal mammals – moombas, if he correctly recalled from his studies – flanked him in a ring, their beady yellow eyes uniformly trained to him with an unflinching sentiment of curiosity. Whether it were of a carnivorous intent, Squall could not tell, though the sizable dimensions of their sharpened talons provided little to assuage his apprehension. By contrast, their compact bodies just barely reaching his waistline appeared to lack a great deal in the way of musculature, leaving him his only potential exploitation to make use of in hand-to-hand combat. He quickly darted his eyes between each of the five in rapid succession, on the lookout for the first indication of movement. At last, it came courtesy of the second creature from his left, as it abruptly raised its paw.

"Laguna!" it exclaimed, extending the limb forward as if to motion for a high-five.

Squall's mental processing, previously so full of frenzied anticipation, immediately stalled in its tracks. His jaw fell agape of its own accord as he looked the furry creature up and down in bewilderment, unable to believe the name which had just sprung from its toothy maw. The notion of a moomba being capable of human speech was plainly ludicrous. That it somehow knew of that particular name, and had come to approach him with seeming knowledge of his visions was utterly mind-bending.

"You know Laguna?" he asked the congregation of orange fur gathered around him. The remaining four instantly sprung to life in jubilation, echoing 'Laguna' one after another as they began to prance about on all fours. Whatever knowledge they may have possessed regarding the principle subject of his visions, it appeared that their lingual command extended no further than his name.

The moomba who had first spoken remained standing in place, its paw still outstretched and waiting for Squall to accept the gesture. Reluctantly, he extended his black-gloved palm in return, meeting the plush padding for a light touch. Satisfied, the creature squeaked in joy, retracting its paw and hunching back down to four feet. It began to purr excitedly as its tail swayed back and forth in the company of its friends. Squall could do little but stare at the ensuing commotion, without a single clue as to what was going on.

"Squall!" a familiar voice called his name from the open doorway.

He turned his head in unison with his furry companions to see a lone man clad in the standard blue and silver Galbadian military attire. He preemptively readied himself for a confrontation, but halted upon noticing his helmet had been removed. The young man's head of spiked light-blonde hair and the tattooed tendrils framing his left eye assured him he was in no immediate danger.

"What's going on in here?" Zell asked as he took a step forward. "You okay?"

As he began his approach, the surrounding moombas lunged forward with a series of snarls, gnashing their sharp teeth in defiance of the perceived threat. Though Squall could not understand the reasoning behind the animals' inclination to defend him, he realized that he alone had the means to call off the impending scuffle.

"Hold on," he urged the feline creatures, stepping forward to stand beside them. "He's a friend. He's not with them."

The five ceased their attempted intimidation at his words, shrinking back suspiciously with their eyes still trained to the newly arrived SeeD. Taking advantage of the disengagement, Zell continued forward to stand beside him.

"How'd you manage to get these guys on your side?" he shot him a perplexed look.

"I'm not too sure," Squall muttered, placing his hand to his head in confusion and taking the opportunity to remove the bandage dipping over his eye. "But it seems like we have… a mutual friend."

"Come again?"

"Forget it," he dismissed his own comment, knowing he could never hope to adequately explain it. "We need to get out of here, fast. The Gardens… they're going to fire -"

"Missiles?" Zell unexpectedly finished his sentence for him. "We know. Our weapons are in the control room right outside. Let's get back to Quistis and Selphie, and maybe with these guys' help we can fight our way out of here."

"Where's Rinoa?" he asked tensely, his failure to have mentioned her not going unnoticed.

"She's been let go. Her dad managed to give her a full pardon. She's not involved in this anymore."

 _Good. At least there's one less thing to worry about._

"Come on, let's get moving. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

With a nod of acknowledgment, Squall followed his uniformed comrade out the door onto a lengthy semi-circular stretch of flooring, taking immediate note of the collective of additional moombas spread about its width. In the center of the vacated battleground lay two freshly dispatched Galbadian soldiers, undoubtedly the unconscious figures of his torturers. Peering over the railing to his right, a seemingly bottomless shaft stretched far into the shadows of the prison's lower levels, from whence he had surely been raised to the upper level by the nearby mechanized crane contraption. As he steadily made his way through the gathered crowd of moombas, each turned their eyes to him with glee, excitedly exclaiming Laguna's name to him on sight.

 _It almost feels like I'm a celebrity…_

"Hey," Zell interjected himself into his thoughts. "Did they not hook you up with one of those bracelets?"

"Bracelets?" Squall repeated, not understanding the question.

"I take it that's a no," his teammate replied, seizing hold of his right uniform sleeve and slowly rolling up the attire. True to his word, clamped around his wrist was a thick metallic bangle, its silver sheen a perfect compliment against the cold metallic paneling of their surroundings. A lone card-key slot was ingrained into the material, set beside a rhythmically pulsing LED indicator.

"These things basically produce some kind of negative energy field around the person wearing it, which supposedly cancels out the energy frequency of a GF. They're manufactured by Odine Industries, if that tells you anything. Me and the girls all got cuffed with one when we were captured, but I guess they didn't bother with you, since you were out cold. Or they figured you were already… well, you know…"

"So, what you're telling me is that you can't use your GF?" Squall concluded, slightly taken aback by the existence of such a piece of technology. By comparison to absolutely everything else presently weighing on his mind, it was remarkably the easiest thing to believe.

"Yeah, but as long as _you_ can, we've got a chance," Zell proclaimed, before motioning to Wedge's limp, incapacitated figure. "Come on, let's get you into his outfit, and head down with the weapons."

"Even in uniform, two guards running around the cells with armfuls of prisoner's weapons is going to look suspicious," Squall warned him. "And it's not going to do us any good getting the two of them back up here without being noticed. I'd prefer to keep as low a profile as possible until we absolutely need to."

"I'm thinking it's a little late for that," Zell commented, turning his head to gaze about the frolicking renegade moombas in their midst. "Unless you've got any ideas about getting down there and back without being seen."

"You're good with machines, right?" he pointed to the waiting crane arm attached to his former solitary confinement chamber.

"You want me to try working _that_ thing!?" the blonde youth shook his head in protest. "I think you're _seriously_ overestimating what I can do. That kind of equipment is going to take some trained expertise to operate properly."

"In that case, maybe we could find you a volunteer," Squall suggested, eyeing Biggs' prostrate figure lying beaten and battered upon the ground. "See if you can get him to come around. I'll grab the weapons."

He turned on his heel and started across the width of the walkway, trailed by a small subset of his loyal moomba followers. Paying the band of furry admirers little mind, he strode through the door to the glass-paneled control room and turned his focus to the large desktop table resting beside the central console. As Zell had assured him, each of their respective weapons, belts and miscellaneous effects lay strewn across the surface. Upon the sight of his gunblade, Squall's legs almost instinctively lunged forward of their own accord. He snatched up the weapon with one hand, seizing hold of his pair of intertwined belts with the other, and hastily affixed the sheath's clip to the left side. He quickly slipped both of his legs through the makeshift harness, before reaching for his silver lion pendant and matching ring in rapid succession.

Having returned the two pieces of jewelry to his neck and left ring-finger respectively, he at last shifted his attention to the set of metallic spheres clustered together in the center of the table. Extending his hand for the nearest to determine if it were indeed his own, he suddenly halted his arm in mid-motion, noticing that one of the four presented a clear disparity from the rest. As opposed to the muted silver sheen of the other three, one sphere appeared to be constructed of another form of alloy altogether, a reflective bronze glistening under the control room's fluorescent lighting. It was plainly unlike any other Guardian Force Squall had ever encountered in all his years spent at Balamb Garden.

With a reasonably confident hunch as to whose it was, he plucked the first of the three silver spheres from the tabletop and engaged the dual switches situated on the top and bottom with his fingers. The halves parted slowly, revealing the faintest glimpse of a swirling sky-blue energy contained within. He deduced it to be Quistis' ice elemental sphere, disengaging the device and pocketing it for safekeeping. He quickly scooped up the second for examination, this time finding a recognizable fiery aura lurking underneath the metal casing. He attached it to his belt as he took hold of the third sphere, the energy inside tinted a rough, earthen sandstone hue. By process of elimination, his suspicion had seemingly been confirmed.

Setting Zell's own back on the table for a moment, he finally picked up the uniquely colored sphere, carefully poring over its reflective exterior in the delicate clasp of his fingers. At last the logo imprinted on the fore of its shell spun into view, Squall's eyes widening in disbelief as it registered to him. Without exception, each and every Guardian Force he had ever seen always bore the black and white crest of SeeD etched upon its casing, as a defining marker of the weapon's singular affiliation with the elite mercenary army. Upon the bronze-cast sphere he held in his hand however, an entirely different symbol altogether took its place, one that he had grown intimately familiar with in light of recent developments: the gear-shaped crest of Galbadia.

He stared at the device in stunned silence, his eyes unmoving from the emblem which had no business being affixed to its plating. Refusing to believe it could possibly be legitimate, he depressed the twin switches to part the halves of the casing. To his astonishment, the light within shone with a radiance of pure white, its intensity far greater than any of the three before it. Such was the holy energy he had previously witnessed Selphie's familiar call upon, proof beyond any doubt that it was indeed the source of her stupendous power.

* * *

" _What even was that thing?" Rinoa asked from Zone's end of the table. "It definitely wasn't the usual kind of monster you just find out in the wild. It's like it was_ designed _to take the president's form. How does Galbadia have something like_ that _under their control?"_

" _Maybe…" Selphie started with a noticeable hint of hesitation to contribute. "Maybe… it was some kind of super gross-looking GF?"_

" _Impossible," Squall shot the idea down. "GFs are developed and produced exclusively for use by SeeD via the Garden's contract with Odine Industries."_

" _Yeah, but…" she paused, seeming unsure of what she wanted to say. "But, what if Galbadia found a way to make their own somehow?"_

* * *

It was an inconceivable, world-shattering revelation. Even when considering the existence of the bangles which Zell and his comrades had been cuffed with, for a private contractor the likes of Odine Industries to have broken their binding agreement with Balamb Garden was unthinkable. The differing material utilized for the exterior plating likewise suggested it could not have been the product of the same manufacturing process. That a Guardian Force sphere could have been produced by Galbadia itself was utterly unprecedented, raising more questions than he could possibly begin to fathom. But above all of them, one in particular commanded his confused and conflicted head-space.

 _Who the hell is that girl!?_

The explanation Selphie had given him atop the Dollet communication tower, unconvincing though it had been at the time, was now indisputably a lie. She had certainly not received this sphere from any Garden administrator. Where had it come from? Why did she possess it? How long had she truly had it for? And most importantly of all, could she still be trusted as an ally?

"Ow!" a hoarse groan of pain reached his ears from outside, snapping him back to his immediate priorities. No matter his misgivings with regard to the strange turn of events, now was not the time to become hung up on them. With each second wasted, the fate of the Gardens slipped further out of their ability to influence.

He quickly stowed the bronze anomaly in the same pocket as Quistis' sphere, relegating Zell's to the opposite side of his pants so as to not confuse the two silver variants. He slung the former instructor's belt and coiled black whip over his shoulder and took both halves of the sheared nunchaku in his left hand. Noticeably weighed down by the bulky equipment as he was, he slowly pivoted and started back out of the door, the moombas parting at his approach to grant him passage. Biggs' limp body hung by the scruff of his uniform tightly clenched within Zell's fist, evidently too weary to resist as the blonde bore down on him.

"Here," he motioned to Squall with his free hand, extending a solid black card-key with fringes of gold lining its edges. "Found this on him. It worked on my bracelet, so I'm guessing it's one-size-fits-all. I'll trade you for my GF. Pass it on to the girls for me."

He accepted the thin slab of laminated plastic with his own free hand, taking note of the metallic bangle lying discarded on the floor beside his feet. Squall had suspected that should any of his comrades have been brought to the torture room as Seifer and Biggs had both intended, that they would certainly never have risked destroying such valuable pieces of technology by way of electrocution. Placing the card-key in his pocket, he fished out Zell's Guardian Force in exchange and placed it in his waiting palm.

"You little shits… think you'll get away with this!?" the disgraced lieutenant growled.

"That's the idea," Zell snorted triumphantly. "With a little help from you, of course. You know how to work this crane?"

"Forget it," he shrugged away in defiance. "You're delusional if you think I'm gonna help you two, after all the hell you've put me through."

"Maybe _you'd_ like a turn up on the wall rack," Squall threatened, mustering the fiercest glare he could manage as he pointed to Wedge's still unconscious body. "And failing that, we can always just as easily make use of your lackey here instead. Don't think for a moment that you're our only option. It makes no difference to us whether you live or die."

His attempted intimidation lingered on the icy chill of the silo's vast interior, several moments passing in silence before Biggs finally responded with a scowl.

"Fine… I'll do it."

"Glad we could work things out," Zell smiled with contempt, hauling the captive to his feet. "And so help me, if I see you try _anything_ funny, I'll curb-stomp your face into the floor panels. Do we understand each other? Squall, the others are down on level seven. It's the cell closest to the stairs going up. I left the locking mechanism disengaged. Once the lift comes to a stop, I'll count to two minutes before getting him to pull it back up, so don't dawdle, alright?"

Squall accepted the conditions with a firm nod, and the blonde forcefully guided the lieutenant off to the control room in the company of several watchful moombas. The remainder gathered around Wedge's body, hoisting him above their collective heads all together as they brought up the rear. Despite their overly-excitable and innocent demeanor, the furry creatures appeared to indeed possess intellect far greater than that of most other non-human entities. Taking what scant comfort he could with their compliance, Squall made his way across to the stationary holding cell and re-entered its interior. With no manner by which to close the door without locking himself inside, he quickly retreated to the far-most corner of the room beside the edge of the bed-slab, prepared to steady himself for the descent.

Roughly half a minute passed before the room jerked into motion, the cell lifting off from its ingrained divot on the edge of the walkway and extending outward above the frightfully deep shaft. Slowly the crane began to lower him into the depths, Squall willing himself to avert his eyes from the open hatch so as to not lose his composure. He hung over the void precariously, his life dependent entirely on his squadmate's diligence to keep their unwilling operator under air-tight scrutiny. After an agonizingly long minute, the lift ground to a halt by the side of yet another circular steel catwalk. Slowly inching toward the door, carefully holding onto the various weapons and belts he carried, he peeked his head out to either side. Not catching sight of any patrols circling the walkway, he quickly ducked out of the hanging container and set foot on steady ground once more. He rounded the circumference to the doorway Zell had indicated, promptly took hold of the latch, and swung the cell door open.

He hurriedly scanned the wide room from end to end, his eyes passing over the two ladies slouched upon their knees, Quistis remaining stationary by the side of an unconscious guard, stripped of his uniform. A sizable puddle of sludgy liquid pooled roughly in the center, Selphie evidently having taken great pains to distance herself as far as she could from its diameter. With Zell's baggy jacket draped over top of her dainty frame, her eyes flitted to meet him as he stepped inside, suddenly lighting up with glee.

"Squall!" she cried his name, leaping to her feet and rushing over to his position. "Are you okay? Where's Zell?"

"Waiting upstairs," he bluntly replied, shoving the two halves of her nunchaku before her as he reached into his pocket to withdraw her illegitimately obtained Guardian Force. "We don't have much time, so let's get moving."

"Agreed," Quistis commented, abandoning her captive as she raised herself to her feet. "I take it Zell told you about the missile strike on Balamb Garden?"

"Balamb _and_ Trabia," Squall corrected her, casually plopping the bronze sphere into Selphie's hand without bothering to question her as to its origin. Instantly, the young girl's face turned pale, contorting into an expression of horror.

" _What_!?" she yelped, stumbling in surprise as she quickly stowed the metallic device in the jacket's pocket. In her sudden shock, any potential wariness she may have had with regard to her ruse being discovered could no longer be ascertained.

"Like I said, we don't have time," he responded, handing Quistis her whip, belt and GF in turn, before finally withdrawing the card-key from his pocket. "Here, this should get those bracelets off your wrists. I'll explain our situation on the way up."

Selphie abruptly snatched the key from his grasp without a word, jamming it into the slot ingrained into the metal restraint clasped to her right wrist. With a mechanical beep, the pulsing LED light disengaged. The bangle's locks automatically parted as she shook free the contraption, sending it falling to the steel floor with a loud clank. Squall hastily about faced as she passed it to Quistis, and began toward the door he had carelessly left ajar. Selphie's boots followed suit behind him, and following a successive clanking of metal on metal, Quistis' own hurried footfalls. The moment his body cleared the door frame, his ears exploded with a sudden burst of high pitched wailing. He stumbled forward on the catwalk in surprise as he frantically clamped his gloved hands over his ears, the blaring klaxon drilling into his brain as the emergency lights situated around the shaft roared to life.

"Alert!" an amplified voice reverberated over the loudspeaker system. "Prison break in progress! Brace for ascension!"

' _Ascension'? What does that mean?_

"Zell must be in trouble!" Selphie screeched over the incessant droning of the alarm. "We've got to get up there, fast!"

"Let's make for the stairs!" Quistis shouted. "Just keep your eyes peeled! We need to make sure we're prepared for anyth-"

Her forewarning was cut short by a massive tremor encompassing the entire width of the walkway. Squall fell to his knees, clutching hold of the metal banister standing between him and a plummet to the bottomless depths below. The earthquake intensified further, the vibrations seeming to wrest hold of the entire prison around them. He could feel his knuckles begin to turn white beneath his gloves as he maintained his grip on the rail, Quistis and Selphie appearing to fare no better as they desperately clung to whatever hand-hold they could secure upon the circular walling. After about thirty seconds, the tremor at last dissipated, allowing Squall the opportunity to raise himself back to his feet.

"What the heck _was_ that!?" Selphie moaned, her voice infinitely more audible with the cessation of the sirens. "Some kind of explosion!?"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Quistis remarked, lifting herself and withdrawing her whip. "Let's get a move on. Zell needs our help!"

The three made for the winding stairway leading up, taking the steps two at a time as they climbed ever higher. Moments later, a flurry of automatic rifle shots roared into earshot from above, the percussive racket echoing down through the open shaft. Squall reflexively engaged the sphere set at his waist in mid-stride, working at high-speed to call forth the energy to form a protective barrier. It was only a matter of seconds before the familiar translucent blue shield shimmered before him and promptly faded into infrared, disappearing from human sight. The two ladies to his rear followed his example as they collectively rose to the tenth level, and for the first time since departing the cell, ran directly across the path of a sprinting Galbadian soldier. Evidently stunned by their sudden appearance, the guard stalled in his tracks and frantically reached for his side-arm. In a flash, Squall raised his gunblade and sidestepped past his enemy, drawing the weapon horizontally as he cleaved a brutal slash across the uniformed man's chest. He fell to the floor with a cry of agony, only to be met with a blunt thrashing by one of Selphie's severed nunchaku bars the next moment.

Undeterred, the trio continued onward, charging up the stairs as fast as they could without stumbling. Upon reaching each successive level, Squall re-directed his focus from his feet to the ringed walkway, scanning over its circumference for any sign of movement. Moreso than keeping his eyes open for any potential attackers, he instinctively found himself swerving his vision to the girl outfitted in Zell's jacket to his side. Try as he might, he could no longer in good conscience allow her to stray from his sight without express supervision. Though her generally ditzy personality did not strike him as the sort to be expected from a double agent, it was an all too real possibility which could not be discounted. Perhaps it had in fact all been an expertly acted facade from the beginning, which he had been too unassuming, or even too ignorant to see through.

They finally reached the thirteenth level, emerging onto the walkway Squall had vacated mere minutes earlier. Rifle shots whizzed from the direction of the winding spiral staircase, upon which six Galbadian infantrymen had taken a knee to steady themselves. The horde of moombas frantically dashed about the open expanse below, a significant number among them lying motionless in the midst of several rapidly swelling puddles of crimson. Beside the guard station, a lone soldier had stepped out and begun to wave his arms frantically, appearing to signal for the shooters to cease fire. None seemed to pay him any heed, regardless as to whether or not they understood he was not who he appeared to be. With the helmet re-affixed to his head, no doubt to conceal his spiked blonde locks, Squall knew they they could not possibly tell, nor would his own teammates be able to if he failed to inform them.

"That's Zell over there," he half-shouted over the raucous gunfire.

"What are they _doing_ to those poor moombas!?" Selphie shrieked, her face distraught as her open palm began to shimmer with a fierce electric energy.

Squall quickly sidestepped clear of her trajectory, and watched as she raised her hand before her, trained directly to the staircase. The lightning strike loosed itself from her grasp and careened across the width of the walkway, the rapid-fire pounding of machine gun fire suddenly ceasing as the soldiers scrambled for safety. The shock detonated on impact, five of the infantry sputtering and jerking as the electricity surged through them. The sole remaining armored guard had desperately leaped over the banister to evade the magical assault, falling face first to the hard metal floor below where the regrouping moombas were quick to dog-pile on his limp body.

"You made it!" the disguised Zell shouted as he bolted over to the three, quickly removing his helmet so as to assure them of his identity.

"What happened?" Squall agitatedly questioned him. "Did he get loose?"

"No, that's the weird part," he replied, evidently as befuddled as he was. "Me and those little guys had him on as tight a leash as could be, and then that alarm just started up out of nowhere. He tried to make a break for it, but I reeled him back in and knocked him out. Whatever that was all about, it wasn't me."

"But the alert said there was a prison break in progress, didn't it?" Quistis pondered. "Who else could it-"

A volley of gunshots drowned out the rest of her query, Squall reflexively snapping his eyes back to the staircase. A squadron of soldiers gradually descended backwards from the mouth of the open ceiling hatch, their rifles trained toward the top of the steps rather than downward to the four gathered SeeDs, nor the congregation of moombas. Squall looked on in confusion, now sharing Quistis' own speculation as to what could have induced such a reaction from the guards if not themselves. Just then, a pair of far louder shotgun blasts, one after the other, ripped through the spacious silo from atop the steps. The soldiers tumbled backwards down the stairs, their bodies twisting and bending unnaturally as they impacted hard on step after step. Moments passed in silence, until a tall figure bedecked in a khaki longcoat stepped down from the upper landing to stand upon the stairs.

His boots loudly clanked upon the metal steps as he casually traipsed on down. Smoke continued to waft from the double barrels of the shotgun propped up against his right shoulder, trailing up over the brim of the black cowboy hat seated upon his wavy brown hair. His eyes leisurely passed over all in sight from his towering vantage point, from the moombas directly below, to the silo, and finally settling on the group of four. As Squall met his gaze, his lips curled into a sly and triumphant grin.

"Somebody call fer a breakout?" he hollered down, the twangy accent just as Squall remembered it from before their intense verbal confrontation atop the Presidential Residence. Though he had quickly come to associate the distinct vocal timbre and inflection with unremitting irritation, now it was music to his ears, bearing the promise of salvation just as the sniper shot had spared him from Seifer.

"Oh, come on!" another instantly recognizable voice echoed down from the top, this one clearly feminine in nature. Squall's mouth dropped open as a streak of blue quickly descended to stand by the side of their rescuer, and abruptly slapped him on the back of the head.

"Stop trying to act so cool!" Rinoa chided him as the sharpshooter reflexively reeled. "We've got to get down there fa-"

She stopped herself as she turned to survey the open expanse, catching sight of the four standing in like-minded bewilderment.

"Hey!" she shouted down to them, waving her arms for attention. "You guys! You made it out!? Get up here, quick! We're here to get you out!"

Squall's legs sprung into action on command, rushing forward to the base of the stairs as Zell and Selphie to his rear followed up with excited whoops and hollers of their own. He could scarcely believe his eyes, even as he plowed through the parting crowd of moombas and raced up to meet the pair. He had been fully expectant of never seeing either of them ever again, much less that the two would put their lives on the line to free them from incarceration. While under normal circumstances he would have been utterly beside himself at Irvine's recklessness to have brought Rinoa along, all he could feel now was an unfamiliar swelling rising within his chest. It was a sensation he struggled to place a name to, only understanding that for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was overcome with a strange feeling of content.

"Glad t'see y'all are in one piece," Irvine quipped as they finally reached the top of the steps.

"Says the guy who was going to just up and leave without them!" Rinoa scolded him with her hands on her hips, turning her attention to the group of SeeDs. "Seriously, my father tells him to come pick me, and _only_ me up, and he was actually about to go through with it!"

"I'm standin' here right now, ain't I!?" he protested against the accusation.

"After I scratched you to death!"

"Thank you," Quistis stepped forward, her voice strangely rigid if not outright devoid of any discernible emotion as she turned her gaze from Irvine to Rinoa. "Both of you."

"Whatever," the girl in blue indifferently huffed, reminding Squall of himself for the briefest moment. "Let's just get moving before more reinforcements show up!"

"Can't argue with that," Zell agreed, abruptly turning to face the cowboy. "You got a ride?"

"Better believe it," he responded, pumping his firearm to discharge the emptied shells and pivoting on his heel. "Let's go!"

Irvine began his charge back up the steps, Squall surging forward to follow just behind him. Rising to the upper administrative levels of the prison through the open hatch, he gazed about the cold steel surroundings of the room he had emerged into, quickly coming to the understanding that the sharpshooter had wasted no effort in his ordained rescue. The numerous scattered and ravaged bodies of Galbadian infantry lay peppered with shotgun ammunition all around, the regal navy blue of their attire marred by the many crimson splotches dotting their limp figures. Paying only what little heed he could afford given the dire circumstances, he trained his eyes to the rear of the gunman's signature longcoat and raced after him as he trudged down the adjoining hall.

For more than a minute they charged onward through the carnage-strewn halls, weapons drawn and held at the ready to fend off any potential ambush. What guards would routinely round the corners ahead to step into their path were disposed of by Irvine on sight, his command of the weapon clearly masterful to have developed such lightning-fast reflexes. Whatever factors had contributed to his hesitation atop the carousel the previous night, a lack of competence was assuredly not among them. Before long, the hallway had led them to a spacious freight hangar, the wide expanse below the catwalk they stood upon packed with all manner of metallic containers and storage receptacles. A set of matching silver-plated, military class troop transports sat parked parallel to one another on the far side of the room, offset by a lone yellow-tinged outlier on the end.

"That one's fer us," Irvine pointed to the anomaly across the room.

"Then let's get those doors open and blow this joint!" Selphie declared, her finger extended across to the massive steel entryway.

"I'll see what I can do," Zell volunteered, quickly shoving the helmet back over his head to free his hands before darting off to the control room situated along their side of the hangar's perimeter.

"Hey!" the cowboy called after him, bidding him to stop in his tracks. "While yer at it, try an' find somethin' in there labeled 'submerge system', alright?"

"Submerge system?" he repeated, not understanding the significance. "What's that do?"

"Jus' trust me, I've got a feelin' we're gonna need that engaged to get outta here. Now move it! Time's a wastin'!"

The remaining five made a hasty break for the descending metal stairs, Rinoa pushing herself to retain her position of security squarely in the middle of the single-file procession. As soon as Irvine had reached the metal banister leading down, yet another roar of gunfire quickly erupted from across the divide, bullets flying wildly as they ricocheted to and fro off of the rusting metal interior. Squall reflexively ducked down with the girl in blue to his rear, providing her the protection of the infrared energy shielding which doubtless still lingered about him. With a flash of light, two massive chunks of ice shot from Quistis' hands, each the size of a beach ball, and exploded into shards of frigid shrapnel upon impact on the other side. Knowing better than to needlessly stall in his tracks to watch the ensuing debris, Squall grabbed Rinoa's wrist with his free hand and jerked her on down the stairs after Irvine, leaving the combined long-range spellcraft of the two women to his rear to fend off the incoming riflemen.

He reached the bottom of the steps and deftly followed the cowboy across the length of the garage, weaving around several neatly arranged stacks of bulky cargo containers which stood erected in their path. The parked yellow transport quickly came into sight, just as a noisy creaking of metal swerved his attention to the large hangar doors. Slowly, the great gate parted, the brilliant early morning sunlight in the distance suddenly sweeping across the dank prison interior. Momentarily letting go of Rinoa, he raised his gloved hand in front of him to ward off the glare, until finally his eyes had adjusted to the sudden surge in brightness. Beyond waited a peaceful blue sky, decorated by fluffy white clouds, the promise of freedom beckoning him to run into its embrace as fast as his legs would allow. And yet, as he strained his neck to further glimpse what awaited him outside the open doors, he could see no ground upon which to run.

"What the hell!?" Rinoa yelled over the still ongoing exchange of raucous gunfire and magic to their rear. "Where's the desert!?"

"Damn," Irvine swore as they reached the side of the vehicle, bidding the two to take cover behind its frame. "I figured as much. That's what all that shakin' was after they sounded the alarm. This place's special."

"Special, how?" Squall impatiently asked, still catching no sight of the ground outside from his current vantage point.

"Why don't ya stick yer head out there an' see fer yerself?" he fired back. "Jus' don't go tippin' over the edge."

"Cut the sarcasm and just tell us what's going on," Squall growled, realizing yet another heated stand-off between he and the sniper had unwittingly begun to brew.

"Let's jus' say they don't call this the highest security prison in the nation fer nothin'," Irvine began to explain. "We all read up 'bout this place at my Garden a while back. On top o' bein' out in the middle o' the Dingo Desert, with no water 'round fer hundreds o' miles, it's all underground, 'cept fer the upper level we're on now. But the thing is, the whole complex's got this crazy submerge system built in. The bottom o' the main spire's equipped with this huge drill that can burrow this place into the sand, and raise it back up."

"So the reason we can't see the ground is…" Rinoa started warily.

"Yup, we're 'bout a good couple hundred feet in the air right now," he confirmed. "So, until spiky up there finds the controls, we're sittin' ducks."

"Perfect," Squall muttered irately, doubting his words could be audibly heard by either over the constant gunfire.

"Let's jus' get in!" Irvine urged as he thrust the key into the transport's side door and twisted hard. He hastily flung it open, allowing Rinoa to climb her way in before Squall followed suit, sheathing his gunblade as he maneuvered himself into the back seats.

"Here come those two," Rinoa announced as she lowered herself into the passenger seat and buckled her safety belt, prompting Squall to turn his head to glance out the vehicle's right-hand passenger window.

From across the hangar's spacious lower expanse came Quistis and Selphie, charging side by side for the car. Shifting his eyes through the windshield to the upper walkway, a lone soldier bolted from the control room, rounding the upcoming corner to the metal scaffolding leading downward. He reached the top of the steps just as the two ladies swung open the side door and boarded the vehicle, seeming to stumble slightly as they pulled themselves up.

"Let's hope that's the last of them," Quistis remarked, releasing a heave of exhaustion borne from the intense firefight as she settled into one of the rear seats.

"Do you think Zell found what you were looking for?" Selphie anxiously pestered Irvine in the driver's spot.

"He'd better've," the cowboy responded dryly. "Else we ain't going nowh-"

His words were prematurely silenced by the ensuing rumbling beneath the transport's chassis. Squall quickly gripped hold of the back side of the driver's headrest to steady himself, the carriage sickeningly jerking to and fro as he felt an ever so slightly noticeable sinking sensation wash over him. Glancing through the windowpane, he saw the armored Zell double over in alarm, fighting to steady his footing in the midst of the sudden tremor. Reasserting his balance to an adequate degree, he broke into a fully fledged sprint, clearing the remaining distance in a matter of seconds before he leaped into the open door, nearly sending Selphie's petite figure tumbling over as he did so.

"What exactly did you make me _do_!?" he roared over the ruckus, slamming the door shut as the ignition finally roared to life.

"Jus' buckle up and hold onto yer ass!" Irvine yelled, the car lurching forward as he depressed the gas pedal.

Squall dug his fingers deep into the upholstery, clutching for dear life as the car swerved out of its parking slot to face the open hangar doors. Through the windshield and beyond the gaping opening, the distant horizon swathed in sand dunes slowly peeked into view from their vantage point, the prison surely descending from its apex to rest on the desert surface once again.

"RPGs behind us!" Quistis shrieked from the rear, Squall spinning around to find her staring out the back window in horror. "We need to move, now!"

"We ain't fully touched down yet!" Irvine responded agitately. "You askin' me to nose-dive outta here!?"

"Fuck it!" Zell angrily swore. "Just floor it! _Now_!"

On command, the shrill screeching of burning rubber ripped through the wide, steel-plated chamber, followed by the sound of two successive rocket ignitions from behind. The vehicle lurched forward at frightening speed, accelerating rapidly as it shot straight for the gaping entryway. With only a fleeting glance downward to ensure he had buckled his own seat belt, Squall held on as tightly as his fingers would allow and mentally braced for what could in all likelihood be the final moments of his life. The transport's front tires cleared the opening as the rockets detonated with a pair of deafening booms at an uncomfortably close range just behind, ejected from the prison's clutches with a blazing fanfare. His breath caught in his throat at the realization that they had left the assurance of solid ground, and just as swiftly began to fall toward the sand-strewn plains roughly three stories below.

Time slowed to an agonizing crawl, Squall's stomach sinking in tandem with the vehicle toward the fast approaching ground. A pair of women shrieked in terror, his eyes unable to tear themselves from the windshield to determine which of the three among them it might be. Closer and closer the inevitable collision drew, until at last he could stare no longer and wrenched his eyes shut in dreaded anticipation. The impact came the very next second, lurching him forward and up as the wheels slammed onto the sand. Had he not preemptively buckled his seat belt beforehand, he would almost certainly have been flung directly into the front of the vehicle and perhaps even smashed through the thick glass pane. His surrounding companions likewise jerked violently in place, each letting out a cry of panic before realizing a split-second later they had miraculously survived.

Arching his neck back to take stock of the interior, and likewise to assure himself that he had not sustained whiplash, he glanced past Quistis holding her head in her hands and through the rear windows to see a billowing cloud of dust churning immediately behind. An unbelievably large drill bore deep into the earth, lowering the descending domed upper level of the prison to its resting position on the surface of the desert. Gradually, the complex began to shrink into the distance as the vehicle plowed across the uneven sands at breakneck speed. Against all odds, by the grace of Irvine, Rinoa, and the curious collection of moombas who had selflessly risked their lives to assist them, they had been set free.

"Everyone alright!?" Selphie's head worriedly shot up, her eyes darting around the carriage interior.

"More or less," Zell groaned, righting himself in his seat with noticeable strain and removing the helmet from his head. " _Really_ glad I kept this armor on."

"I… can't believe we're alive," Rinoa breathed from the passenger seat, evidently shaken. "That has to be the riskiest thing I've ever lived through."

 _That's saying something,_ Squall reflected; when placed in contention against her own failed train-hijacking ploy, or her similarly ill-advised confrontation with the sorceress the night before, he understood such a statement carried great weight indeed.

"Thank you, Irvine," Quistis called up to the driver's seat from the back, fighting to regain her composure.

"Not a word of it, Quisty… er, ma'am," he stuttered, his voice unnerved and shaky as he reached down with one hand to snatch up his fallen cowboy hat.

"And also," Squall began, leaning forward to just beside the sharpshooter's headrest. "Thanks for back in the city… you know, when he had me pinned on the parade float. I guess… I owe you one."

"S'all right" he modestly accepted the praise. "I coulda easily taken his head off, but… well, I don't know if I'd want that weighin' on my conscience. He's still one of… one of you guys, right?"

"Not anymore," Zell growled, meeting his left hand's gloved palm with the balled fist in his right. "But right now, we've got _way_ bigger issues. We've gotta find a way to stop those missiles from firing."

"I heard 'bout that from the general before he sent me t'come get Rinoa," Irvine admitted. "The new AI guidance tech the army's usin' is still real early in development. It's never been tested fer cross-continental targets at that kinda distance, since ya can't exactly do somethin' like that without startin' up a whole 'nother war. Apparently they're gonna use Trabia fer the initial test strike, and then hit Balamb once they get confirmation on the accuracy."

"Do you know where that missile base is!?" Selphie frantically beseeched him. "I just transferred from Trabia! I can't just sit here knowing they're being dragged into this!"

"It's a long ways northwest from 'round here, up on the very edge o' the desert. Probably take a few hours t'get there, at least."

"Then there's no time to waste! We've gotta get out there and stop that launch!"

"First things first, Selphie," Quistis interjected from behind. "As SeeDs, Balamb Garden's safety is always our number one priority. We need to split up into two teams, and have one team head back to warn the headmaster and administration to evacuate the campus in case things don't go as planned."

" _How_!?" Zell incredulously blurted out. "We're on another continent! If they do manage to get those missiles off, there's no _way_ we could make it back to Balamb in time."

"If they're going to be standing by for confirmation of a successful hit on Trabia, then provided the other team at the base can slow them down long enough, it might be possible," the former instructor elucidated. "We hijack a prison supply train at the depot we were dropped off at, and gun it to Timber. From there, we take my docked assault boat back across the ocean… so long as it hasn't been discovered. It's a long shot, but it's the only real option we have."

 _Isn't that the saddest thing I've heard all day…_

"So, who's going where?" Selphie urged for an answer. "I want on the missile base team. They've made this _personal_ for deciding to use my old home for target practice!"

"What'dya say, Mr. Leader?" Irvine craned his neck back to Squall, as all four remaining sets of eyes turned to him simultaneously.

 _Why does it always have to be_ me _making these decisions!?_

Now more than ever, the burden of leadership that had been foisted upon him proved too much for him to bear. To be left standing at the hopeless crossroads he now faced, shouldered with the expectation of determining the best course of action in a scenario where thousands of lives hung in the balance was precisely the situation he had long since dreaded would one day become reality. It was not that he had no answer on hand for the dilemma presented; on the contrary, his logically sound thought process had already provided him with the only sensible groupings for both teams. Even with the correct answer staring him right in the face however, the ultimate question remained: could he bring himself to take such a deep responsibility? Could he find it in himself to command the three to head to the missile base, knowing he would be the one bearing full accountability should they be captured and killed?

"Squall, it's up to you," Quistis reminded him. "You're still the operation leader here."

 _I've had it up to here with this leader thing… alright._

"The Garden return team will be comprised of myself, Quistis and Rinoa," he finally announced. "Selphie, Zell, Irvine… stop those missiles."

A hush fell over the vehicle interior, Squall darting his eyes all about for any indication of his squadmates' reactions. Zell and Selphie appeared to share a mild glace of discomfort with one another, their eyes flitting back and forth between the girl in blue in the passenger seat, and the blonde former instructor seated to the rear. Neither of the two ladies spoke a word, Rinoa swiveling back to face the windshield and slouching into her seat with what sounded to be an irritable huff. Reluctant though they appeared to be at his lackluster leadership, the teams could simply not be arranged any differently. Being the only non-combatant of the group, Rinoa had no business whatsoever being sent into the fray, while Quistis' still substantial repute within the Garden would help give further credence to their story upon arrival.

The only remaining uncertainty in his groupings came by way of the strange alleged transfer student, in possession of a Guardian Force which by all accounts should not have existed. Given what little he understood, it was plainly obvious that she could no longer be trusted, and that he would be forced to rely on Zell to both lead the operation and keep a close eye on her for its duration.

 _I stand corrected…_ that's _the saddest thing I've heard all day..._


	25. Chapter 3 - Saboteurs

3

 **CHAPTER 3 – SABOTEURS**

The tires of the transport ground to a halt upon the sand-strewn desert plains, coming to a rest in the shadow of the looming water tower. Zell promptly unbuckled his seat belt the instant he felt the vehicle's momentum dissipate, pulling his stolen helmet over his head before taking hold of the side handle. He jerked the door open and stepped out onto the coarse wasteland, adjusting his footing as necessary to balance himself on its ever shifting surface. The morning sunlight beat down on him from beyond the raised, rusted pipeline extending down the length of the depot to the east. He at once considered himself grateful to be afforded the visor's dimming, realizing the glare reflecting off of the sand would have likely proven blinding to his naked eyes.

Quickly shutting the door of the packed vessel he had shared with his squadmates, Zell turned his focus to the red brick-laden guard house erected beside the depot's entryway. From his current position, he could spot no soldiers through the window, but knew it would be foolish to assume there would be no one left on duty. He sprinted forward, moving across the expanse as fast as he could despite the hindrance of the sand requiring he place significantly more physical exertion into each step. As he drew near, the gleaming silver plating of a Galbadian helmet stepped into view, bursting into prominence through the window with the sun's aid. His legs continuing to pump, Zell's upper body sprung into action, waving his arms frantically to steer the guard's attention toward him. Moments later, his efforts were rewarded.

"Hey!" he shouted to the unsuspecting security, finally slowing as he gestured back to the parked vehicle. "Can we get some help? Our car just stalled!"

"Alright, hold on a sec!" the guard amicably agreed, disappearing from sight as he dipped back into the guard house.

Zell waited impatiently, understanding that he and his comrades desperately needed to make every second count if they were to have any hope of saving their respective homes. The door to the small hut opened moments later, the guard he had signaled presumably leading the pair that emerged and began toward him.

 _Just the number we need._

"C'mon!" he urged them, tearing back across the sands to the gold-tinted transport. "Something's up with the engine!"

"What's your regiment number?" one of the soldiers called after him as they followed. "Did you come from the prison? We saw it rise up out in the distance a little while ago. Was there an escape attempt?"

"It's a long story!" he hurriedly deflected the questioning, finally coming to a rest at the fore of the vehicle's hood and proceeding to prop it open. As he gripped hold of the covering and heaved, he glanced to the spot directly beside the driver-side door, taking note of the concealed sharpshooter crouched with his shotgun drawn. With a brief shared nod of acknowledgment, Zell intentionally affixed the hood strut precariously in place and stepped back to allow the guard through.

"Just take a look will ya? We need to get back ASAP!"

"Fine, fine!" the head of the pack grumbled as he strode forward, placing his head directly over top of the dormant engine to determine the source of its alleged malfunction. "But seriously, what's goin' on over th-"

Irvine's hand shot out like a viper from behind the vehicle's cover, knocking the flimsy bar loose before the oblivious would-be assistant could finish his query. The raised hood successively came crashing down upon his upper back just as quickly, slamming his face and upper torso into the mass of intertwined automotive machinery with a tortured cry of agony. Zell instantly placed his leather-gloved hand atop the surely searing hot hood, holding their captive in place as the second guard quickly reached for his side-arm in bafflement. Not allowing him the opportunity to draw, Irvine bolted up the next moment and trained his own weapon to the stunned infantryman. He froze on the spot, releasing his fingers' clasp on the holstered pistol and slowly raising both hands above his head.

Spotting a streak of yellow slowly beginning to sneak around the opposite end of the vehicle, Zell released his firm hold on the hood and hoisted it open once more. With his free hand, he heaved the limp body of the crushed soldier out of its clutches, his unconscious figure falling backwards to lie upon the sizzling sands. His companion fell seconds later by way of a swift bludgeoning from behind, courtesy of two halves of a large severed nunchaku. With both guards dispatched in rapid succession, the side door of the transport swung open once again, Squall and Quistis ducking their heads through as they stepped out to join them.

"That went surprisingly well," their leather-clad leader admitted with a hint of surprise, sweat already beginning to seep down his face in the midst of the scorching desert heat. "Let's get them out of their uniforms and hide the bodies."

"Yes, sir!" Selphie saluted, as she knelt to remove the clothes from the guard she had incapacitated.

Following her example, Zell crouched down to deal with the second at his own feet, Irvine joining him to provide assistance as needed. As he removed the helmet from the battered infantryman's head, he took note of the fresh burn-marks adorning the lower, exposed half of his face. No doubt the residual heat left from the vehicle's engine had contributed to the grisly scalding he had suffered, to speak nothing of the agonizing blow his back had sustained from the hood's heavy impact. He would by any reasonable estimation not be on his feet again for weeks on end. The attire and various effects finally fully stripped from his body, Zell gathered them in his arms as Irvine hoisted the unconscious man into his own. He proceeded toward Quistis and Selphie, the two sharing the hefty weight of the other undressed soldier, and together began back across the sand to the redbrick guard house. Squall remained holding the second appropriated uniform, before turning to stow it in the vehicle.

"You sure you're gonna be able to figure out how to work one of those engines?" Zell asked the moody swordsman as he placed the second in the rear alongside him. Turning his eyes to the front of the transport, he could see Rinoa had yet to move from her spot in the passenger seat, still seemingly stewing in her resentment of who Squall had assigned to accompany the two of them.

"Maybe I oughta come instead of Quistis?" he hinted aloud, hoping he could perhaps be of service in remedying the situation.

"We'll be fine," Squall insisted, turning back around to face the depot. "The fact that her reputation still holds some weight around the Garden will go a long way in convincing the administration to believe our story."

"I… guess you've got a point there," he sighed, understanding it to be no use.

"I'm leaving command of the infiltration team to you," he began with a serious and foreboding tone to his voice. "And moreover… I want you to keep a close eye on Selphie at all times."

"Huh?" Zell puzzled, not understanding the significance. "What for?"

"There's no time for me to explain," he responded, his eyes gazing across the divide to the girl in question and their two other comrades hastily making their return. "But whatever happens, be sure not to let her go wandering off on her own. Something about that girl just doesn't add up."

"Uh… sure, if that'll make you happy," he uneasily acknowledged the order, all the while considering if recent events had perhaps caused Squall to develop an overt case of paranoia.

Though Selphie's remarkable prowess in harnessing her Guardian Force for one so inexperienced had surprised him, to speak nothing of the unbelievable rejuvenative powers she had demonstrated, based on what little time they had spent in one another's company, he had little reason to suspect her of any sort of wrongdoing. He realized the fact that Squall could be so quick to judge was more than likely indicative of his own deep-seated insecurities, and perhaps even a hint of jealousy.

"We're all set," the usually giddy girl herself announced as the three trotted up to rejoin them, now appearing far more serious than Zell had yet to see her. With her former Garden's safety hanging in the balance, the time for cheer and optimism was clearly long since past.

"Are we ready?" Rinoa's voice obliviously asked the very question to Selphie's answer, finally stepping out of the passenger's door to join them.

"Looks like it," Squall confirmed dryly.

"Then I suppose this is where we part ways," Quistis sighed, joining Squall by his right side and scanning her eyes across the three to be sent due north. "Take care, you three. Remember to keep your heads down, and stay vigilant at all times. We're counting on you."

"Yes ma'am!" Zell saluted, Selphie and Irvine falling into formation immediately after.

"Keep your focus on the objective," Squall followed up the words of encouragement, his gaze firmly fixed to Zell. " _And_ each other."

 _Something tells me I oughta be saying the same to you,_ he thought, taking a cursory glance between the two disenfranchised women flanking either side of the stern-faced squad leader. He said nothing, and merely released the salute with an obligatory nod.

"Let's move," Squall commanded, spinning on his heel and tearing off toward the depot entryway. Quistis and Rinoa promptly about-faced and followed after him, seeming to take great pains to maintain the distance between one another.

"Y'all heard the man," Irvine spoke, himself pivoting back to the vehicle and grabbing hold of one of the two uniforms. "Let's suit up an' get goin'."

"Lemme in!" Selphie pushed her way past the sly sharpshooter and into the rear of the transport. "And so help me, if I catch either of you peeking, I'll beat you so bad you won't wake up 'til we get there!"

' _At all times', he said… sorry bud, not about to go there…_

* * *

The sprawling desert sand continued to stretch on as far as the eye could see in every direction beyond the passenger side window. Sparse groupings of prickly cacti dotted the largely desolate terrain every so often, their shadows casting little more than a sliver of shade across its gleaming, glassy surface. Bathed in the full luminescence of the noon sun as it was, Zell now found himself more appreciative of the air conditioned interior of the Galbadian transport than at any other point since they had parted ways with their comrades. The steel-clad vehicle rumbled on as fast as its engine would reasonably allow, the accelerator firmly depressed to the floor by the incognito sniper at his side. Craning his neck back, he glanced again at the second, far more petite impostor seated in the rear amid their stripped casual wear, her visor absentmindedly trained out the window. Whether her demeanor was the consequence of either boredom or unease, he could not tell.

By his own wristwatch's account, Zell deduced it had been just under four hours since their departure from the prison way-station. As they had burned rubber away from the depot, he had caught sight of a lone locomotive absent any trailing cars speed off down the tracks due east for the coast line. A contingent of Galbadian infantry had fruitlessly attempted pursuit on foot from behind, only to be literally left in the ensuing dust as it picked up velocity and raced away into the distance. When considering their starting position far to the south of Deling City, placed on a comparable latitude with Timber as the capital shared with Galbadia Garden, the roughly five hour ride they had taken into the city two days before could likely serve as an accurate measure of the return team's ETA. With a faster average speed and a lack of stops along the route, it was perhaps even conceivable to cut close to an hour off of the trip. Regardless, Zell recognized he and his own squad could not allow themselves to become complacent. The Garden team's return across the ocean would take longer still, leaving them the onus of sabotaging the missile launch proceedings to at the very least stall for time.

Within minutes, the facility slowly came into view in the distance through the windshield. The body of the industrial control center imposingly stood over top of the surrounding steel wall encircling the premises, an incessantly pulsing array of red lights affixed to its apex visible even from afar. Several looming containment tanks likewise peeked over the perimeter, their frames appearing encased within a network of girders and maintenance walkways. Whatever their contents, be it oil or some other form of flammable liquid propellant, Zell recognized the caution he and Selphie would need to exercise with utilizing their Guardian Forces once inside. A single mishandling of the energy would surely be prone to send the entire compound up in a blazing pyre. Even from such a distance as they presently were, there could be no guarantee of themselves not being caught in the blast radius or ensuing shrapnel. Such circumstances as theirs called for a far more delicate and deliberate approach, ideally one in which they would have no need to rely upon the volatile power, or even engage in combat whatsoever.

"Lemme handle the talkin' when we get to the front gate," Irvine quipped from the driver's seat beside him. "I've got somethin' I think's gonna make our job a whole lot eas-"

A sudden volley of detonations interrupted his explanation, forcing Zell's attention back to the windshield in front of him. His mouth promptly fell open on its own as he watched roughly a dozen streams of white smoke soar off into the sky from the inner grounds of the missile base, the high-pitched screeching of their ascent audible even from afar over the persistent rumbling of the engine. He squinted his eyes against the sun high above, tracing their intertwining trails as they sped off due northeast. All abruptly fell silent once more as they quickly faded away into the distance, the already deep pit in his stomach now virtually bottomless. Try as they might, they had been unable to move fast enough to avert the initial launch on Trabia Garden.

Swiveling his neck back to the rear seats, his sight landed on the slouching young girl clad in the bulky, ill-fitting Galbadian attire behind him. Though he could not read her expression behind the helmet's visor drawn over her eyes, her tightly pursed mouth just below revealed all he needed to know. Her head promptly dipped toward the floor of the carriage in despair, and made no effort to rise. Zell vicariously felt her melancholy begin to tug at his own heartstrings, and yet could find no words to properly console her. In all likelihood, there were none to be found no matter how thoroughly he racked his brain. Despite his previous experience acting as a confidant for Quistis following her blowout with Squall the night of the SeeD ball, this was a complication far beyond his ability to provide adequate emotional support for.

"Selphie," the sharpshooter spoke in his stead, not taking his foot off the gas pedal. "I'm… I'm really sorry."

"That… that was a miss… right?" Selphie muttered lowly in a hollow, broken voice. "It has to be… yeah, you said they're' still untested right? There's no way they could get all the kinks worked out the first time, right? As long as there's a chance…"

She trailed off, seemingly lost in her own disjointed thoughts. Zell turned his gaze away to allow her time to grieve, knowing her tirelessly optimistic demeanor would do more to help her maintain her emotional stability than he possibly could. He redirected his eyes back to the fast approaching complex, the wispy trails of exhaust yet to dissipate from sight. At the vehicle's current pace, they would arrive at the gated checkpoint to the fore of the base within less than a minute. With the first salvo of missiles directed for Trabia airborne, what potential safety-net the return team had been afforded was in an instant wiped away. No matter the cost, even should the initial strike prove to be a miss as Selphie so desperately hoped, they could not allow the same fate to befall Balamb Garden.

"Like I was sayin'," Irvine spoke again, allowing the vehicle to gradually slow to a leisurely cruise as they neared the guard station. "I think I've got somethin' that'll get us in, no questions asked."

"Whatever works," Zell responded, his nerves beginning to get the better of him as they drew closer.

Over the course of their hours-long journey north, he had quietly contemplated each and every possible explanation they could potentially make use of to convince the base security to let them inside. He had ultimately settled upon passing themselves off as a last minute supply transport carrying supplemental warheads for the launch. Without an official delivery form to prove their legitimacy however, he knew the facade would likely only go so far as the front gate before forcing him to devise a way of somehow incapacitating the gate attendants. Though Irvine seemed confident in the effectiveness of his supposed ace in the hole, the apprehension remained as the vehicle's tires ground to a halt on the paved entryway, the disguised driver lowering his window to meet the waiting sentry standing in the neighboring window.

"State your business," the guard firmly demanded of him.

"What's this tell ya right here?" the sniper lackadaisically quipped, swiftly pulling up a gleaming gold badge crafted in the image of the Galbadian crest. A faint line of text ran across the base of the medal, moving out of Zell's sight too quickly for him to read.

"Urgent orders from the top. We need to speak with the commander. _Now_."

"U-understood, sir!" the sentinel stammered, abruptly ducking back into his station and proceeding to fiddle about with the gate controls. Within moments, the striped black and yellow guard rail began to rise up, clearing the way for the transport to enter the compound proper. Irvine depressed the pedal on cue, the tires spinning into motion yet again and carrying the vehicle's heavy frame on through the open partition.

Craning his neck all around to peer through the windows, Zell's eyes took in the sprawling open expanse of the missile base interior. Numerous groups of soldiers scurried to and fro across the pavement, many trailing off toward the several hangar bays spread out across the left-hand wall, others making haste for the central complex entrance directly ahead. Nearly a dozen armored tank-like mechs sat parked side by side just within the open gateway, each fixed with six large turbine engines jutting out vertically from their bulky, blue-plated frames. To the right, within a wide fenced-off enclosure, three hulking missile launchers stood poised to the midday skies, the white smoke only now having dissipated from their open muzzles. Their foundations appeared to reside within three spacious divots, sinking deep into the earth below where the technical operation center no doubt lay.

"Pretty slick, huh?" Irvine jogged him from his observations, casually guiding the vehicle to the side of the chain-link fence and placing it in park. He hoisted the golden emblem back up from his thigh into his free palm, proudly flaunting it in triumph.

"Little somethin' I got from the general, when he sent me to bail out Rinoa. His personal seal o' executive permission, an' our free pass into wherever the man says he wants us to go."

"Or wherever we _tell_ them he wants us to," Zell acknowledged the unspoken inference, unbuckling his seatbelt as he did so. "Good to know the troops still recognize his authority, even with everything that's happened."

"Fer now, at least," Irvine ominously spoke, killing the ignition and pulling the latch on the driver-side door. "No guarantee it's gonna stay that way much longer, though. Hell, he said he's expectin' he'll be relieved of command by the end o' the day, an' that's why I had to hurry."

"Well, it's worked wonders for the time being," Zell sighed in relief, opening his own door and setting a single foot down on the pavement. "Still, start waving that thing around _too_ much, and it's probably gonna look suspicious."

"Yep, probably would. Let's jus' cross that bridge when we get to it. Comin', Selphie?"

Zell turned back to shut the passenger door, noting the armored girl in the rear of the carriage slowly start to unbuckle her seat belt and inch her way to the door on Zell's side. She swung it open gingerly, and steadily lowered herself to the ground, fighting to find stable footing. Her knees seemingly refused to bend naturally, each of the over-sized pant-legs concealing one half of the severed nunchaku held in place parallel to her legs. Though the additional volume helped to compensate for the lower attire being so mismatched to her physical stature, the upper half of the uniform sagged noticeably off of her skinny frame, appearing slovenly and unkempt.

"How do I look?" she asked him quietly, her voice only barely audible over the scuffle of Irvine's boots as he rounded the vehicle to their side.

"Maybe… you oughta stick behind us," he gently suggested.

"I gotta tell ya," the sharpshooter began, buckling his shotgun belt around his waist. "There was a time I used to dream 'bout what this'd be like. Y'know, the sheer rush I imagined it'd be to step into this uniform fer the first time. An' now that the moment's finally here… I jus' don't feel anythin'. It's kinda eerie."

"What, you never considered the future where a bat-shit crazy witch takes over the country?" Zell sarcastically quipped, his eyes trained to the bullet-belt. "And you _sure_ that's not gonna be too much of a giveaway?"

"Nah, plenty o' new recruits comin' in from the Garden carry over their old gear. An' besides, if I were in your boots, I'd be more worried 'bout coverin' my own ass. Literally."

Zell grimaced at the remark, only then recalling the gruel stains which undoubtedly still soiled the rear of his uniform's trousers. The remains of the slop had long since dried, though he realized the glaring damp spot could potentially draw undue attention if not concealed.

"I guess I'll be the one taking point then," he responded, motioning for the pair to follow as he started around the vehicle to the complex's main entrance. "Let's just get a move on. We need to figure out how we're going to shut this operation down."

They obliged his command, the group of three collectively crossing the short distance to the doorway of the central control center. Zell stepped on through, taking in a whiff of the industrial-scented air through his exposed nostrils as he scanned the metal-plated antechamber. The short flight of descending stairs led to a single air-lock set into the wall, a lone control panel to its right side bearing a thin horizontal slot for an identification card to be inserted. Rustling his hand about his utility belt, he took hold of the solder's appropriated ID as he trudged forward to the door, and inserted it halfway into the receptacle as far as it would reach. A muted buzz sounded from the attached speaker, the indicator light above the panel turning red as it did so.

"Figured as much," he sighed, withdrawing the rejected card. "Either of you wanna take a shot?"

He backed up to provide Irvine leeway as he stepped forward, inserting his own stolen identification card into the slot. Once again the light flashed red, the system remaining steadfast in denial of their attempted entry. Selphie finally stumbled forward to try her hand, her own card at the ready. Like clockwork, the indicator turned red for a third straight time, leaving them with no immediate means of entry.

"Not _one_?" Selphie exhaled in exasperation, removing her card in disbelief.

"Jus' 'cause ya work at the prison, don't mean ya get a free pass to stroll on into a place like this," Irvine reasoned aloud. "Guess we just hang here 'till someone else comes along, and give 'em the ol' general's orders spiel again, huh?"

"Looks that way," Zell muttered. "Sure not the ideal way I was thinking we'd be going about this."

"Well, if no one feels like waiting," Selphie began with a sudden tinge of irritation to her voice as she raised her right hand before her. "We could always just say to hell with subtlety and rip the doors wide open. You and me, we summon our GFs together and tear this place apart right here and now."

" _Tell me_ you're joking," he firmly dismissed the reckless suggestion. "You _do_ realize the kind of warheads they've got to have stored around here, right? There's no way we'd survive a blast that big. I didn't sign up for a suicide mission. So, don't go getting antsy on me. Let's just play it cool for now, and try not to go blowing our cover before we even get inside, alright?"

"Okay, okay," she retracted her arm. "It's just… now that they've already fired at Trabia… well, you're going to have to excuse me for feeling more than a little mad. Right now, all I really wanna do is make these guys hurt. _Badly_."

For the first time, Zell understood that perhaps Squall's paranoia was not without a legitimate concern. Though he could not have known for certain that they would arrive too late to stop the first salvo of missiles, in hindsight, he should have realized that Selphie's usual energetic and overly excitable demeanor could all too easily metamorphose into uncontrollable anger in such a scenario. Within less than ten minutes, that vindictive desire had made itself known, leaving he and Irvine to ensure stability within their ranks.

"I do _not_ need this right now!"

The muffled, agitated roar sounded from behind the sealed metal entrance, its recognizable timbre perking Zell's ears and sending a chill down his spine. Even with no immediate visual, he had become far too accustomed to the distinct inflections and brazen tone of that particular voice to possibly mistake it for another. The doors hissed open moments later, the traitorous knight in grey himself appearing on the other side of its frame. Instantly, Zell found himself wrought with barely restrained rage comparable to Selphie's own.

"Sir Seifer!" an armored infantryman addressed him, trailing behind his whipping coattails. "Please calm yourself! Sorceress Edea has directly charged you with supervising the launch proceedings. What will she think if you abandon your post?"

"If you hopeless dolts can't manage without me holding your hands the entire time, what good are you!?" he snapped angrily. "I don't have time to waste sitting around here, not when our only lead on that girl is loose! Orders be damned, this is something much more important that needs to be dealt with, right now!"

"I understand your frustration, sir," the soldier pleaded, Zell sidestepping out of their path as Selphie and Irvine cautiously sidled their way inside the door to their rear. "But I urge you to think of the consequences! I can't imagine the sorceress taking kindly to insubordination."

"She'll be far more upset if we don't get those prisoners back! And since when do _you_ have the rank to speak to _me_ about insubordination!? Now get back to your post!"

Zell stood frozen in place, fully enraptured by the explosive spectacle from behind the anonymity of his visor. Though his allegiance may have swayed from Garden's favor, Seifer's obnoxious entitlement was precisely as he recalled from his previous instance of afforded leadership on the shores of Dollet. The aloof young man quickly pivoted away from the verbally abused grunt, only for his fierce eyes to land on Zell the next moment.

"What're you looking at?" he growled contemptuously. "You'll stay out of my way if you know what's good for you, understand?"

"Y-yes, sir!" Zell promptly saluted, biting his tongue to hold back the instinctual disgust he currently grappled with. Seifer snorted derisively in return, and hastily proceeded past him up the short flight of steps to the exit. He released the pose, and following a fleeting look of sympathy for the lone guard, quickly rushed through the open doorway to rejoin his teammates.

He emerged onto a narrow metal catwalk overlooking a precipitous drop into the deep recesses of the missile base. Though nowhere near the vertigo-inducing height of the D-District Prison's seemingly bottomless central shaft, the slender railing tracing the walkway provided little comfort as he trudged on by to meet his friends waiting by the adjacent freight elevator.

"Talk about a lucky break," Irvine muttered from his place by the call button. "Ya think they're gonna hold off on firin' till he gets back?"

"Wouldn't that be nice," Zell rhetorically mused, hearing the hum of the lift begin to draw closer. "But we shouldn't just assume that's how it'll play out. For now, let's see if there's anything we can do to buy ourselves even more time."

A firm pair of nods were his only responses before the elevator came to a halt on their level. Zell stepped aboard after his teammates and quickly scanned over the interior panel; a meager three basement levels were all the selection he was afforded to choose from. Presuming the central control stations to likely be situated somewhere on the upper levels, he pressed the first button below their own indicated floor and stood back as the shutters closed. They descended slowly into the dimly lit depths, the evenly-spaced florescent lights fixed to the walls passing by their only guide.

After close to half a minute, the lift slowed to a stop and reopened to a spacious elevated storage expanse. Various crates and containers lay strewn about the immediate vicinity, many already having been relieved of their contents and left to be collected by the waste disposal crew. The encircling railing, here significantly more sturdy than that of the top floor, gave way to a view of the lowermost level. Striding forward to peek his head over the edge, Zell took in the swarm of soldiers and technicians scurrying about the operations deck roughly thirty feet below, darting from console to console with frantic intensity.

"Looks like all the action's down there," Irvine commented from his side.

"Yeah, but it's not gonna be easy to keep a low profile in a crowd that big," he grimly replied. "There's gotta be somewhere else we can get to work, somewhere more secluded. Like, if we could find where the launchers themselves are stored for loading."

"Makes no difference to me," Selphie muttered as she joined them, having remarkably managed to improve the fluidity of her footwork in such a short time. "If there's anything we can break, we break it. End of story."

 _This really isn't the same girl anymore, is it?_

"As long as we're bein' sly 'bout it, ya won't hear any complaints from me," Irvine assured her, motioning to the doorway set into the wall across the platform. "At any rate, we'll prolly have better luck checkin' round this way fer now."

The three trailed away from the railing and on into the adjacent office block. The network of dank, rusted corridors intertwined and branched off in each cardinal direction, patrolled every so often by yet more squadrons of guards. Zell took it upon himself to keep his fore facing ahead at all times, both to conceal the dried stains on the rear of his uniform, and to provide adequate cover for Selphie's scrawny figure. None appeared to pay them any mind, save for the inevitable exchange of deference with each maneuver to bypass one another in the cramped halls.

As they continued onward, he found himself at a loss as to just how quickly the state of global affairs had spiraled so far out of control. Barely two weeks earlier, he had miraculously been granted admission into the ranks of SeeD, despite having been complicit in an act of desertion. He had thought nothing of the details of his first official mission the morning he and his squad had been dispatched from Balamb Garden. The logical assumption would have been for the administration to provide a relatively quick and easy assignment to ease them into their newfound stature. Instead, they had found themselves charged with the abduction of a world leader, an ill-fated ploy which had somehow inadvertently led to their involvement with an assassination plot against a woman in possession of magical powers beyond reckoning. Now with the safety of the Garden itself having fallen upon their shoulders, that he could somehow still find the strength to push forward in spite of it all surprised even him.

"What d'ya think about this over here?" Irvine finally spoke, gesturing to a neighboring steel door. Zell raised his visor to the plaque set beside it, the words ' _Generator Room_ ' printed in large bold font.

"Wanna cause a blackout? That oughta buy us a good chunk o' time."

"It's a start," Zell commented, noting the absence of any designated card-key slot as the front entrance had sported. He gripped hold of the handle and slowly heaved the sliding door ajar, peeking his head through to take stock of the interior.

A set of three large monitors each the size of a bay-window sat affixed to the opposing wall, each looming over a single unmanned workstation. The screens presently displayed all manner of diagnostic information, a perplexing mishmash of data which proved challenging to comprehend even to his own technologically inclined mental faculties. To the right-hand side, a massive industrial generator had been set into the steel paneling, residing behind a thick glass pane bordered by cautionary yellow and black striped markings. Its humming core pulsed with a luminous golden glow, steady and consistent in its fluctuations. Content with finding not a single sign of human occupancy, Zell stepped forward into the room and approached the console erected beneath the middle screen.

"So, what's the plan?" Irvine casually asked, sliding the door shut after himself and Selphie. "Ya got any idea how to work this stuff?"

"Gimme a sec," he firmly spoke, his eyes carefully poring over the controls laid out in front of him for any indication of where to begin.

Though he had taken pride in the cultivation of his trademark technical know-how over his many years spent as a cadet, it was truthfully Zell's first time handling such a voluminous and complex array of machinery. He intensely scanned the foreign computer hardware from top to bottom, hoping he would catch sight of a master control panel soon enough. He continued to examine the console, gradually beginning to deduce the general organizational scheme of the various switches and their respective duties, when a sudden shove from the side broke his concentration. He stumbled, whipping his neck back as he righted himself to see Selphie step forward before the monitors. Without warning, she forcefully slammed her palm on the central keyboard, the first of innumerable wild blows as she began to frantically wail on the delicate technology with abandon.

"What the hell are you _doing_!?" he shouted, instantly losing his composure.

"What's it look like?" she bit back, continuing to relentlessly slam on the controls all the while. "If you wanna shut something down and keep it that way, you can't make the repair team's job easy on them."

Zell stared on in horror as the demolished control panel began to spark under her balled fists, the data displayed on the screens beginning to warp and mangle into an even more incoherent mass of gibberish. He prepared himself to tackle the girl into submission, before she could further jeopardize their mission, when a shroud of blackness instantly descended before his eyes. Through the darkened, infrared shielding of his visor, he was completely blind save for the lingering flicker of sparks still sputtering from the console. Selphie's frenzied pounding ceased, as the generator's omnipresent hum died out in synchronicity. All was silent, Zell unable to hear so much as a breath escape from the mouths the other two.

Just as abruptly, a set of dim red emergency lights from above illuminated the room, casting eerie shadows across the figures of his teammates and the demolished control center. Selphie stood remorselessly over its battered frame, Irvine with his back to the now lifeless generator beyond the thick glass partition.

" _Electrical system malfunction!_ " a voice suddenly shot to life over the base intercom system, prompting Zell to jump. " _Emergency generators have been engaged. Maintenance team, investigate immediately_."

"We need to get the hell out of here, _now_!" Zell commanded, spinning on his heel toward the door with haste. The hurried footfalls of his teammates followed closely after, drowned out as he savagely heaved the door open and tore off down the blood-red illuminated hallway.

His mind raced as he forged his way ahead to the coming intersection, praying they would not be uncovered by any passing guards. He ducked his head around each corner quickly to check for sentries and hung a hard left, reducing his pace to a hurried stride along the way so as not to draw unwanted attention. He glanced back to perform a head-count of his squad following behind, themselves evidently on edge as their visors uneasily darted every which way. They routinely flickered in and out of his peripheral vision, swathed in the shadows of the dim, muted lighting which encompassed all as far as the eye could see. After roughly two minutes longer of navigating the winding halls, with the remarkable fortune to not have run afoul of any further patrols, they managed to retrace their steps to the open storage platform, quickly ducking behind the shell of a hulking metal container.

"Alright," Selphie panted as she fell to her knees, herself evidently exhausted as well from the frantic getaway. "I'm guessing that should stall these guys for at least a few more hours. So, what's next?"

"What's gotten into you!?" Zell harshly whispered. "Are you _trying_ to get us caught? Now they're gonna be on high alert!"

"They were obviously going to catch on at some point," the devil-may-care girl justified herself. "It just means we're going to have to keep a low profile from here on out. And look on the bright side, we've already managed to throw a big wrench in their plans this early on."

"Did we _really_ hafta leave that big a trail for 'em, though?" Irvine interjected from behind, evidently on the same wavelength as Zell.

"Can't be helped," she huffed. "Anyway, the three of us walking around joined at the hip like this is probably going to get us too much attention. I think we'd better split up."

"Good idea," Irvine responded, his tone evidently dripping with dry sarcasm. "We can do more damage that way."

"Let you go off on your own after what you just did in there?" Zell asked Selphie incredulously. "No way in hell. And besides, you think you're not gonna stick out the way you look in that thing?"

"With all the lights out, it'll probably be a lot harder to notice," she countered. "Heck, I could barely even see the soup stains on your butt running behind you a minute ago. Come on, Zell, I promise I'll be more careful. You have to trust me!"

He firmly crossed his arms in disapproval, recalling the duty with which Squall had entrusted him. How foolish he had truly been to simply write his concerns off as senseless and without sound rationale. Now fully aware of Selphie's potential to bring the entire operation crumbling down around them, his logical mind screamed at him to not let her out of his sight. And yet, in the wake of her destructive rampage, she was absolutely correct in her assessment that a group of three tightly knit soldiers would draw far more attention than should they agree to head their separate ways. He glanced to Irvine for assistance, unable to discern any inkling of emotion past the obfuscation of his slitted visor. As the de-facto squad leader, the decision was his alone to make.

"Fine," he reluctantly agreed with a glance back around the edge of the container toward the freight elevator. "I'll take the bottom level, you two each pick one of the other floors. This'll be our rendezvous point if they manage to get the lights back on. Stay alert, and don't do anything reckless. Understood?"

"Ya don't hafta tell _me_ ," Irvine quipped with a glance to the petite armored figure in front of him.

"It won't happen again," Selphie swore, bringing her hand up before her to perform the SeeD salute. "I promise."

 _Sorry, Squall…_


	26. Chapter 4 - Burning Rave

4

 **CHAPTER 4 – BURNING RAVE**

The metal flooring beneath Squall's resting feet bobbed and jerked with each new wave the assault boat crested. Despite the windowless interior of the fuselage, the relentless speed with which the vessel presently tore across the ocean was evident. He firmly gripped hold of the adjoining armrest to steady his shifting along the row of seats, but could do little to fight against the vertical displacement that came with each routine jolt. Though he had never been prone to seasickness, the circumstances of their hasty return trip had caused a swirling pit in his stomach to materialize all the same. It was akin to the dread he had felt following the withdrawal from Dollet, when he had been chastised by both the commandant and his then-instructor for dereliction. This time however, the unnerving feeling was one of far greater magnitude. It was not his standing as a Garden operative he feared for now, but the academy's very existence and the lives of all those blissfully unaware of the impending missile strike.

Rinoa sat across from him, her black boots kicked up on the central commode as she slumped back in exhaustion. Her own fingers appeared to dig deep into the upholstery, holding on for dear life just as he with every bump. No matter the discomfort they both felt, signaling to Quistis up in the cockpit to slow down was not an option. Due in large part to her expert navigation of the continental rail-lines, they had managed to arrive on the southern coast of Timber's Rancor Plains within just under four hours, leaving behind the hijacked locomotive on the tracks nearest the shore. Their streak of good luck had continued with the discovery of Quistis' assault boat, nestled within the confines of a narrow cove where she had left it docked five days before. Fortune had favored them immensely thus far, but Squall understood complacency was the last thing they could afford to take false comfort in. With still roughly half the journey home ahead, speed remained of the essence.

"Ah!" the girl in blue let out a mild yelp as the next bump caused her to lose her balance on the seat. She righted herself swiftly and cast her eyes across the divide to Squall. "You don't think she's doing this on _purpose_ , do you?"

"Only to make sure we get back as fast as humanly possible," Squall dryly affirmed. "And even at that, it still might not be enough."

"Yeah, I get it," she sympathetically acknowledged his concern, her eyes dipping down to the commode as she moved her feet to the floor. "Still… somehow I get the feeling she wouldn't mind freaking me out like this."

"She _does_ have something of a juvenile streak underneath it all," he admitted, reminded of the innumerable times Quistis had playfully teased or otherwise actively pestered him, even in the half-year she had been his instructor. "But considering the situation, I'd doubt it. I'm sure you can tell how seriously she takes herself in the field."

"You don't have to tell me about that," she sighed, her tone seeming slightly peeved for reasons Squall could not understand.

Her general attitude had reflected such discontent all along the train ride to the shore, having spoken nary a word to himself or Quistis for the entirety of the trip. Perhaps it was the remaining lingering traces of guilt from having interfered with their plans the night before. Or perhaps it was as simple as recognizing the severity of their current circumstances, and understanding that she could not possibly contribute anything which would ease their concerns. As she opened her mouth once more, Squall came to suspect he was likely correct in his assumptions.

"Listen, Squall," she started up again, her eyes turned away from him in what looked to be hesitation. "I… I know you've got to have a lot weighing on your mind right now. And I understand you probably just see me as one more burden you'd rather not have to deal with."

 _No argument there…_

"I don't want you to feel obligated to keep worrying about my safety, or our contract. I realize there's already way more important things going on right now, but… well, I think I know just how seriously _you_ take yourself in the field. So, just to make sure you don't get yourself too hung up on me over the rest of this… I've decided I'm going to let you off the hook, officially. Once all of this hopefully blows over, and the Garden is safe, I'm planning to ask Cid to have our contract nullified."

Squall's eyebrows instinctively raised in surprise at the unexpected gesture. Given the rapid and chaotic escalation of world affairs, the Forest Owls' fight to liberate Timber had been rendered completely inconsequential overnight. He knew as she surely did that the already expansive stretch of Galbadian occupied territory was soon to expand even further, and that without the ever-present threat of SeeD to halt the impending advance, the nations of the world would be quick to buckle in the face of Sorceress Edea's conquest.

"But," she continued, as she raised her head to look him straight in the eyes with a fierce and determined stare. "Don't think that this means I'm just trying to get out of this mess for my own sake. I'm not running away. I still want to help, in any way I can. If that's okay with you."

"You've already helped enough," Squall responded, surprising even himself at the lack of sarcasm in his voice. "You managed to convince _that guy_ to turn back around and break us out. That alone was more than we could have asked for."

The praise he suddenly found himself affording her was uncharacteristically sincere, but deserved all the same. Though his quartet of captured SeeDs could perhaps have fought their way out of the prison by themselves, they would have been left without any knowledge of the missile base's whereabouts. It was largely due to Rinoa's persistence that they had been given a narrow window of opportunity to avert the destruction of the Gardens. Whether that opportunity would make any difference at all remained to be seen.

"Oh," she lightly blushed at the compliment. "Uh… thanks. It wasn't anything big. If anything, I was just worried you'd be thinking something like, 'No one has ordered me to escape', and end up sitting in there, doing nothing. False alarm, huh?"

She chuckled lightly to herself from across the commode, Squall's irritation beginning to flare up in tandem with the lighthearted jab. The blaze was just as swiftly squelched as he shut his eyes in concentration, allowing the bobbing of the waves to lull him back into what scant sense of calm he could savor in the moment. He understood Rinoa's quip to be her own method of doing the same, knowing that the events she had faced in the previous week combined would have likely proven too much for most people without the proper ingrained discipline. That even he found himself experiencing such difficulty in maintaining his usual stoic demeanor was proof enough, and only reinforced by the responsibility he felt for his teammates now on the opposite side of the western continent. For the time being, he could do little but bide the remaining hours ahead on the open sea. Regardless as to whether or not Selphie could still be trusted, or if the infiltration team as a whole possessed the means to stop the launch, any ability to influence the situation was now well and truly out of his hands.

 _They'll find a way to make it happen. They have to. Please don't make me have to carry that kind of burden…_

* * *

"Three, two, one, heave!"

Zell hunkered his shoulder down against the heavy body of the missile launcher and shoved with all of his might as commanded. Several more soldiers pushed along his right side, their boots slipping and sliding on the metal floor as they fought to steady themselves and appropriately focus their momentum. If there was any squeaking to be produced by their tirelessly shifting soles, it was completely drowned out by the infinitely louder creaking of the launcher's treads. His body fully pressed up against the rough, rustic exterior, Zell could feel the towering piece of heavy artillery begin to inch forward into position at an agonizingly slow pace. He quickly craned his neck to peer around its bulky frame to the opposing end of the spacious hangar bay, taking note of its two siblings nestled within their designated indents set into the floor. Each of the looming monoliths was a testament to the unyielding strain that had become routine to him for the previous hour and a half.

Since having parted ways with his two fellow saboteurs nearly five hours earlier, Zell had resigned himself to reconnaissance of the lower levels of the missile base. The electrical systems had still yet to be brought back online, the sheer destruction Selphie had wrought in the generator room having evidently proven difficult for the maintenance team to address, just as she had intended. Though he could not know for a fact, he suspected the girl's ability to cause such monstrous damage with her bare hands was likely owed to utilization of her Guardian Force to amplify her physical strength. It was the very same method of earth energy manipulation Zell himself had trained for several years to master. Though her sphere's own observed holy elemental distinction offered an explanation as to how she could harness the energy in such a manner, that a fresh transfer student with so little previous experience could have such success with the technique was astounding.

Unsurprisingly, the subsequent discovery of the damage had resulted in the base being placed on lockdown. A station-wide security alert had been raised, keeping Zell on edge for the duration of his incognito tenure spent navigating all about the bottom level of the complex. He dared not venture far into any area he pleased without express permission for fear of garnering suspicion, and as such, most of his time had been spent idling about the central control core. All the while, he only prayed that Selphie and Irvine had been enjoying far more fruitful results than he, and that the announcement of an intruder's confirmed capture would not come.

In the intervening span, Zell had managed to deduce a plethora of technical information regarding the workings of the launch proceedings during his time spent inconspicuously eavesdropping. With the emergency backup generators engaged, the on-duty technicians' work had proceeded as planned, if at a far more grueling pace, being limited to usage of only a small handful workstations at a time to conserve what scant power they were afforded. So long as the maintenance team continued to toil upstairs, there could be no possibility of operating the automated reloading system for the launchers. As a result, after several long hours with no immediately apparent progress, a number of lowly grunts including him had been tasked with hauling the looming silos out of their firing positions for manual loading of the warheads.

So he had spent the last hour and a half engaged in backbreaking labor alongside the unsuspecting infantrymen. He knew he could have easily called upon the power of his Guardian Force to reinforce his strength and make the tedious work significantly more bearable, and yet, he would never have done so. The risk it presented with regard to maintaining his disguise notwithstanding, he had no interest in speeding along preparations for the impending missile strike on Balamb Garden. Momentary physical aching was nothing compared to the lifelong emotional distress he would live with should their mission prove to be a failure. After roughly two more minutes of straining, the launcher slid into its proper position. Zell and the troops finally let go with a collective exhale of relief, followed by labored and exhausted panting.

"Holy hell," the soldier nearest his side groaned as he slumped to the floor, his back pressed to the now stationary hulking mass of metal. "We'd better be gettin' overtime for this shit."

"You got that right," another agreed from further down the row, his torso hunched over with his hands clutching his knees. "So help me, if they just suddenly get the power back on any minute now after _that_ …"

"Still no word on who caused it, though," one of the others piped up.

"Take a wild fucking guess, why don't you!? It's gotta be those SeeDs that spoiled brat went storming off after! I just hope I get to see his face when he finds out they turned up here as soon as he left. That witch'll have his hide when she finds out."

"How're you so sure it's them?" Zell coolly contributed to the conversation, making his best effort to sound natural. "Maybe someone here just said 'to hell with it', and went rogue? You're obviously not happy with the way things are going. Who's to say someone else wouldn't just snap and do something stupid?"

"Maybe," the first soldier to have spoken pondered aloud. "And I haven't heard word about anything else getting trashed. You think whoever it was just smashed the generator room and flew the coop?"

"What's it matter?" the irritable second countered, straightening himself. "Whoever did it, they've managed to piss me off. Let's just get outta here. Soon as the lights come back on, we're launching. We're already way behind schedule."

"What about the Trabia strike?" Zell asked, his heart nervously fluttering in the moment. "We still haven't gotten word about the accuracy, right?"

"It's been hours since then. Once the power's back, we just gotta flip on the news feed, and we'll know in an instant."

"SeeD probably already does," another infantryman contributed. "How long d'ya think it takes a story like that to go international? No way they haven't gotten word about it yet. I'd put my money on them already having evacuated. Which kinda makes all this work we've done pointless, don't it?"

A wellspring of murmured agreement began to pour forth from the exhausted soldiers as they rose to their feet, each dragging their tired and aching bodies across the hangar to the steel entryway. Zell remained standing still by his lonesome with his eyes downcast, considering for the first time the potential benefit said world-wide media coverage could have potentially served their cause already. News of the missile strike, whether successful or a near-miss would undoubtedly be broadcast over every intercontinental HD cable feed in operation for at least an entire twenty-four hour cycle. It was inconceivable to think that Balamb Garden's intelligence committee would not be immediately on top of the story as it had broken. While he knew the utter annihilation of Trabia Garden could in no way be spun as a positive, that the extended delay they had provided could have given the headmaster and administration time to organize a full evacuation of the campus was comforting enough.

He turned away from the fully prepped missile launchers and began back toward the door, wondering all the while if he and his comrades' infiltration operation were indeed finished. So long as the lives of its students were secure, the Garden itself could always be reconstructed. It would be a devastating loss of incalculable financial and even sentimental value, but ultimately not irreplaceable. SeeD would persevere in the face of all adversity as they had for more than a decade, and one day rebuild their demolished home for the sake of the generations of future students to come. The unfortunate sacrifice of Trabia Garden coupled with their own actions had bought ample time for the student body to escape, and as he passed through the hissing automatic doors and stepped out into the connecting hallway, Zell pondered if it were now perhaps time for the three of them to make their own exit.

He turned his head slightly and craned his neck down to the control console set beside the doorway. He had taken notice of it just before having entered the loading bay in the company of his assigned unit, and surmised it to be the designated data upload terminal for the missiles' integrated AI systems. A mass of intertwined cables ran from its rear and on through the flooring into the adjoining hangar, continuing beneath the metal plating to end at one of the three ingrained divots where the launchers now rested, as he had seen firsthand. From what he had been able to gather from his irritable fellow workers, the precise coordinate input was to be manually uploaded to the server via USB drive, and by way of the console would be digitally transmitted to the missiles themselves now resting within the specially designed launchers. Excepting the numerous products he had encountered to have come out of Odine Industries, such advanced technology was well beyond anything else he had ever seen.

With no one else presently in sight, it was only the lack of station-wide power which kept Zell from trying his hand at tampering with the console's settings. Though the coordinates of Balamb Garden could not have been uploaded prior to the missiles having been set into the launchers, it did not rule out the possibility that he could fiddle with the default error ratio and potentially send the missiles flying well off course. It was perhaps the most effective manner by which to avert the Garden's destruction, to preemptively alter the standardized launch settings, allowing the on-duty soldiers and technicians to believe they had succeeded while he and his squad made their escape as they celebrated their efforts.

Realizing it to be little more than fantastical daydreaming at this juncture, Zell turned away from the workstation and continued to trudge down the hall. As he began to mull over just how he would go about tracking down both Selphie and Irvine to suggest a withdrawal, his eyes were suddenly struck by an explosion of light. He instinctively brought his hand up to shield his eyes, before coming to the realization that his infrared visor was fit for the task of safeguarding his vision. The instantaneous burst of light had not been a flashbang, nor any form of magic incantation, but merely the florescent lights lining the corridor above his head blinking back into existence all at once.

It was several moments before the ramifications just as swiftly came roaring into Zell's conscious mind, freezing him to the spot. It was scant few more until he realized the opportunity could very well allow him to turn his daydreaming into reality. With power restored, and not a single prospective interloper in the immediate vicinity, there was no better moment in which to act. He abruptly spun around and dashed back down the hall, his boots pounding on the linoleum as the intercom system crackled to life and a pronouncement loudly reverberated off of the surrounding walls.

" _Main generator back online,_ " it spoke in a cold and unfeeling tone. " _All_ _personnel, take your positions for launch._ "

Zell reached the console just as the announcement concluded and the loudspeaker clicked off. Knowing his time was short, he switched on the monitor and waited impatiently as the screensaver bearing the Galbadian crest gave way to a green-tinted digital representation of the world map. A lone banner ran across the top of the display, spelling out ' _The Galbadia Republic Army Dept._ ' in large, elegantly styled font. A blue scroll-down menu extended down the left-hand side, the first and foremost option among them labeled ' _Target_ ' immediately drawing his attention. With a tap of his gloved finger on the touchscreen, a new text window popped up on cue, prompting him for an access code before the prospective data could be uploaded. He tapped the cancel command and scrolled down the screen for an alternative, his eyes eventually landing on an option titled ' _General Settings_ '.

Another tap on the tab brought up a multitude of indicators running the gamut from basic display options to readouts of various sets of diagnostic information. He scanned over the conglomerate of selections and finally pressed the one reading ' _Targeting Calibration'_. A single gauge popped up, indicating the error-correction ratio currently fixed to its maximum setting. With one swipe of his index finger, he swiftly lowered the calibration to its lowest level, and pressed the confirm prompt to save the settings.

"State your business, soldier!"

Zell bolted upright at the gruff accusation, his heart leaping into his throat as he quickly tapped the ' _Return_ ' icon in the upper right-hand corner to reset the monitor's display back to the home page. He swiftly turned to see a lone soldier outfitted in bulky red commander's garb come striding down the hall toward him, his exposed lips beneath his helmet furled in discontent.

"Sir!" he saluted the base commander, whose company he had only briefly shared in the control center prior to his assignment to the launcher bay. "I was merely ensuring the targeting systems were back online… and checking that no settings had been overwritten by the blackout."

He stood face to face with the superior officer for an uncomfortably long span of time, feeling the piercing stare from behind the visor boring through him. He dared not release the salute prematurely, hoping that his diligence would not go unnoticed and perhaps add credibility to his facade as an upstanding grunt.

"At ease," he ordered, Zell finally allowing the built up air to quietly seep out from his lips as he parted his legs and lowered his arm from his forehead. "Is everything in order?"

"Yes, sir!" he answered the question snappily. "No issues as far as I could tell. Permission to return to the control center, sir?"

"Granted," the commander huffed, stepping aside to allow him passage down the length of the hall.

Gracious for the quick wit he had managed to summon to extricate himself from such a sticky situation, Zell made his way past the clearly irritable chief, attempting to make his stride as casual as could be. With any luck at all, the calibration settings would go without proper examination before the launch, hopefully sending the missiles off course and careening into the spacious Alcaud Plains far enough away from the Garden premises.

"In fact," the commander growled from behind. "Why don't you let me show you the way?"

Before Zell could react, a hand firmly clasped hold on top of his helmet and viciously yanked it off, jerking his neck back slightly as it left his head. The next moment, the cold steel barrel of a military-issue pistol pressed itself firmly against the rear of his now exposed blonde hair. He froze on the spot, his eyes going wide in disbelief that his ruse had in fact been so easily seen through.

"Hands up!" he roared spitefully. "That salute you just gave was completely wrong! And what is that _crap_ on the back of your pants!? You've got to be the most pathetic excuse for an intruder I've ever met!"

 _I wonder what that says about the rest of your men,_ Zell thought, not possessing the courage to verbalize the jab with the muzzle of a handgun fixed directly to his head. He slowly raised both arms above his head as ordered, understanding he could never manage to activate his GF sphere concealed beneath the fabric of his uniform without drawing undue attention to himself.

"I'm gonna give you five seconds to come up with a reason I shouldn't splatter your brains all over the walls right here and now."

"Because I'm not alone," Zell's mouth blurted out on pure instinct; his rational thought process had taken no part in determining the choice of words. It was only the moment after that he realized it was perhaps the best excuse he could have reasonably given.

"How many?" the commander snapped, seemingly put on edge by the veiled threat. "Tell me!"

"And where would the fun be in that?" Zell shot back, bracing himself for the surely incoming pistol-whip. It cracked across his head like clockwork the very next second, the harsh impact inducing an agonized grunt from behind his gritted teeth.

"Alright, smartass. Have it your way. Let's go!"

With a forceful shove to his spine, Zell stumbled forward and begrudgingly allowed himself to be marched back down the hallway. As they retraced their steps back to the main control center, a pair of soldiers approached from further down the corridor, their jaws dropping open at the sight of the base commander and his captive. With a firm declaration for the two to stop gawking and make themselves useful, the belligerent escort ordered they proceed ahead to perform a thorough examination of the console he had just previously been caught tampering with. The two saluted on the spot – Zell taking note of the far narrower angle formed between their torsos and forearms which had ultimately been his undoing – and sidled on by as he was pressed further forward down the hall.

Eventually, he re-emerged into the heart of the subterranean complex, bustling with as many technicians and armored infantry as he had observed over the last several hours. The occupants appeared to bounce from one reactivated workstation to the next with a newly invigorated intensity, only halting once their attention had been appropriately swayed by the sight of him being ushered along into the center. At the commander's behest, several more guards drew their firearms and trained them to his figure, while the superior officer in red lowered his own pistol and stormed over to a raised intercom station set beside the primary console array.

" _Attention, all personnel!"_ his voice loudly boomed over the station-wide PA, reverberating throughout the spacious enclosure stretching high up toward ground level. " _We have a confirmed capture of an intruder within the base, and have reason to believe there are still an undetermined number more at large. Remain vigilant in your assigned duties and do not vacate your designated area unless you have reason to believe you have uncovered the identity of the intruders. Estimated time of launch is T-minus ten minutes. So, if you little twerps can hear this, know that we've got your friend down here in the control center, and you've got that long to turn yourselves in before we put a bullet through his spiked dome!_ "

He jammed the toggle button angrily to cut the feed, and swiveled his head back to face Zell now surrounded by three trained assault rifle barrels.

"You from that Garden?" he spoke in a derisive and mocking tone. "I hope you made some good memories back home, because pretty soon those're all you're gonna have left to remember it by."

Zell did not speak a word, regardless of how much he longed to send all forms of venomous insults hurtling in the direction of the smug officer. He likewise suppressed the urge to gloat himself at the prospect of the student body likely having already evacuated. It was obvious that his life was of little real worth to his captors beyond a means to lure his comrades out of hiding. He had no wish to become a martyr for the cause of his fellow operatives an ocean away.

For several more minutes he stood motionless with his hands raised above his head, helplessly biding his time until the moment Selphie and Irvine would find themselves obliged to intervene. The launch preparations continued to progress all around him, the screens of the various workstations alight with streams of code and statistics too intricate and densely packed together for him to make any sense of. Before long, a single slim USB drive was ejected from the central console and presented before the commander, who with a single wave of his hand wordlessly gestured for the technician in question to make his way to the data upload terminal. The immediate atmosphere remained tense, despite the Galbadian forces' supposed triumph having finally come so close to fruition. Heads swiveled between one another regularly, the watchful eyes hidden behind their visors warily anticipating any sign of an incoming surprise ambush.

"Sir!" the technician saluted upon his return from the adjoining passage. "The coordinate data has been successfully uploaded. We should be ready to fire at your command."

"It's about time," the irritable officer grumbled, violently whipping around as he began to unload upon anyone and everyone in earshot. "We've had more than our fair share of setbacks… no thanks to _this_ meddlesome punk, of course! Regardless, let's finish up quickly and get those missiles airborne. Everyone take your designated positions, and prepare for the final launch phase!"

The proclamation echoed across the expanse, to be silently acknowledged with a flurry of hurried keystrokes and frenzied shuffling amid the consoles. Zell's three captors continued to stand by his side all the while, the barrels of their rifles remaining rigidly pointed inward toward him. He exhaled in grief, raising his head again only as the sound of the nearby freight elevator descending reached his ears. He turned his eyes to the slowly lowering platform, spotting a pair of Galbadian infantry just beyond the closed iron shutters. The soldier to the fore stood with their back turned to the second, held at gunpoint with arms raised upward just as Zell himself. Standing motionless in such a position, the sleeves of the evidently over-sized uniform noticeably sagged off of the wearer's remarkably petite frame.

As the lift came to a rest and the iron gating automatically parted, the duo stepped out into the central control hub. The unconvincing impostor was prodded forward across the divide, the specific weapon pressed to her back perking Zell's deflated spirits as it came into focus and soon passed him by. The signature double-barreled shotgun provided all the assurance he needed that his teammates had not neglected to consider the all-important element of surprise. Likewise, the two severed halves of the large nunchaku had been removed from either pant leg, the chains jangling from their elongated bodies now wedged inside the gunman's right underarm.

"What the hell is _this_?" the commander snorted as the masked Selphie was marched forward toward him. "And I thought _that kid's_ disguise was shoddy! How in the holy hell have you amateurs not been discovered sooner!?"

"Up yours!" Selphie shot back, the soldiers surrounding Zell reeling slightly at the unexpected feminine timbre of her voice.

"Well, quite the feisty one we have here," the officer scoffed at the insult, turning his attention to her incognito escort. "Don't take your finger off that trigger, soldier. And that also goes for you three!"

He spun on his heel to face down Zell's retainers, utterly oblivious to the faint glimmer of reflective energy which had begun to emanate from the girl's midriff. The maroon-tinged aura slowly crept up and downward simultaneously, coming to encompass her thighs and upper torso as the commander proceeded to lay into his men.

"Keep your rifles on him at all times! With the sheer _arrogance_ of these two, I think the least we can do is let them live long enough to see all their efforts come crashing down firsthand. And then once we've launched, you can feel free to execute them on the spot. I couldn't care less whatever it is that stubborn brat needs them for. Fire when rea-"

Zell reflexively allowed his legs to give out from under him just as the signal came from Selphie's raised right hand, falling to the ground the instant before the amassed energy was released. The shockwave detonated before the commander could finish his command to the technical staff, exploding outward from Selphie's fore with a roaring miniature sonic boom. He was sent flying several feet before toppling over face-first, just as the soldiers surrounding Zell were blown back with a uniform roar of panic. Technicians all around frantically scrambled for cover behind their consoles, leaving the gunman to the young girl's rear, conveniently spared from the blast's radial trajectory the only calm and collected occupant in the control center. He released his left hand from its resting place on the shotgun's pump and removed the nunchaku halves from his underarm, quickly placing them into Selphie's waiting hands as the last of the energy dissipated.

Hauling himself back to his feet as fast as he could, Zell fumbled his hand through the bulky attire he wore, finally seizing hold of his own Guardian Force sphere and activating it. He bore down upon the three shell-shocked troops surrounding him, not wasting the opportunity to ensure they were well and truly incapacitated. Several bludgeoning blows to as many agonized, visor-clad faces later, he rose and tore across the hub to the opposing side of the fray, channeling his energy as he ran to materialize a set of earthen gauntlets upon his fists. Shotgun fire erupted from a distance away; be it near or far, he could scarcely tell in his current state of tunnel vision. He reached the nearest control console, and brought his fist clad in conjured rock armor thundering down on its body. The resulting divot and electrical sparking put the damage his teammate had inflicted on the generator room to shame, sending the horrified technician sheltered by its side running as fast as his legs would carry him to the metal staircase set beside the freight elevator.

The whizzing of spellcraft and roar of gunfire continued to permeate the air in the company of myriad yelps and cries, a cacophonous racket devoid of any rhyme or reason. It was drowned out the very next moment by a blaring alarm, screeching down the entire height of the subterranean facility. An automated announcement sounded over the intercom in its midst, too muddled by the unceasing racket for Zell to make any sense of the language utilized. With a single fleeting glace to the central console, he saw the hulking figure of the base commander slouched forward over top, his hand firmly pressed to a lone button fixed prominently amid the controls, and felt his heart sink.

"Game over, you little shits!" the superior officer shouted over the ruckus, his voice only just barely audible to Zell as he disengaged his gauntlets and raced forward to haul him up into a headlock.

"Shut it down, _now_!" he screamed into the man's ear as he throttled him from behind.

"There's… no way… to stop it!" he choked out triumphantly. "The launchers are… headed up… less than… thirty seconds…"

The red and gold nunchaku abruptly cracked across his face the very next instant, Zell reflexively releasing him from the hold in surprise. His body slumped and collapsed to the floor as Selphie began to screech with an intensity to rival the ongoing alarm.

"Where are the launchers!?"

"Down that hall!" Zell hollered as he pivoted and began to charge the fastest he had ever run in his life.

Despite her legs being far less toned by comparison, Selphie somehow managed to match his pace, as if propelled forward by a great gust of wind whipping at her heels. Within seconds the sealed doorway to the launch hangar came into sight, only to be utterly obliterated as a shimmering burst of pure white light shot from the young girl's hand the next moment. Through the crumbling remnants left in the wake of the magical detonation, Zell eyed a trio of thick pillars having extended upward from where he had assisted to set the loaded launchers in place. In a flash, Selphie overtook him and bolted through the open partition where the door once resided, decelerating to a standstill the moment she stepped on through.

"Stay back!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, as she raised her arm before her and cast a sizable stream of ethereal aura from her outstretched hand.

The swelling, amorphous coagulation quickly began to take shape, soon molding itself into a recognizable outline akin to a rabbit. In a near blinding flash of light, the energy at last fully coalesced into the physical form of the small pale-green creature which had single-handedly laid waste to the sorceress' disgusting abomination days earlier. A piercing ruby light emanating from its forehead began to build to a positively scorching intensity, so brilliant that Zell was soon forced to squint his eyes against the glare. Selphie remained standing in place, her focus unwavering in her mission to imbue as much energy as she could muster into one all-encompassing blast.

With nary a second left to spare by Zell's estimation, the energy was unleashed from the tiny familiar. The blinding stream's unbelievable volume swiftly enveloped the center of the nearest pillar, shearing clear through the reinforced titanium before swiveling sideways to chisel away at the second. The unsupported beam dropped instantaneously, bringing with it a deafening crash, followed by a series of consecutive monstrous explosions from above which rocked the very foundations of the subterranean compound. Zell barely managed to retain his balance, forced to seize hold of the wall for support, while Selphie was knocked clear to the ground. Instantly, the mammoth outpour of energy withered and shriveled into nothingness, as did the rabbit creature's physical manifestation fade away and vanish into the ether. Large chunks of smoldering debris began to rain from above, crashing down all around the outfitted young girl as she fought to raise herself up.

"Come on!" Zell urged, ducking into the room and wresting hold of her hand to help her to her feet. "We gotta move!"

He practically dragged her to the door, fighting against the continuous shaking beneath his boots all the way back to the control center. High above, the distant rumble of yet more explosions on the surface reverberated down, undoubtedly the start of a devastating chain-reaction set off by Selphie's desperate last ditch effort to stop the missiles. No matter the end result of her unbelievably reckless stunt, he understood the structural integrity of the base would not possibly survive such widespread ruination.

"What the hell'd you two _do_!?" Irvine yelled from beside the ascending metal staircase as they re-entered the central hub. "This place's fallin' apart!"

"Just shut up and move it!" Zell roared as he escorted the thus-far unresponsive girl to the masked sharpshooter's position, and the three started up the steps as fast as they could.

Explosions continued to roar from above, prompting yet more wreckage to come smashing down into the desecrated control center. The steel girders lining the innumerable flights of steps began to wobble from the strain, very nearly sending Zell tumbling over the edge to his doom. It was then as he righted himself and took his first glance down at the bottom level, now alight with flaming rubble, that he well and truly understood only a scant few metal planks stood between him and perdition. After roughly a minute and a half of frantic climbing, the stairs ended at the top floor where they had entered the facility. Irvine rushed ahead along the slowly collapsing catwalk to the airlock left hanging ajar in the workers' haste to evacuate. Zell and Selphie followed his lead and bolted on through, tearing up the last remaining staircase to finally emerge back into the primary interior courtyard.

Black smoke soared high into the sky from the nearby hangar bays consumed by a raging wildfire, quickly spreading along the grounds on toward the containment tanks erected further along the premises. All manner of scrap metal and other construction material littered the pavement, freshly settled shrapnel from the numerous blasts to have ensued, intermingled at regular intervals with the remains of their decimated victims. Within the formerly fenced-off enclosure to their left, the chain-link having utterly disintegrated in the time since they had parked their likewise demolished vehicle beside it, the obliterated remains of two hulking missile launchers could be seen, with a giant gaping divot in the earth where the third had been. Most worrying of all however, were the still fresh streams of white smoke yet to have dissipated from the spot where the first two had stood, trailing off into the late afternoon sky where they intertwined and were consumed by the thick smog. It was a soul-crushing omen to behold, proof beyond any doubt that the first two salvos of missiles had been successfully launched.

"The door!" Irvine yelled, deftly maneuvering himself across the length of the mass grave toward the towering gateway, having completely collapsed in on itself. "It's blocked! We can't be locked in!"

"Step aside!" Zell roared, leaping over the various piles of debris and charging forward to stand beside him.

Hearing yet more small eruptions beginning to sound from nearby, now more vividly than his ears had allowed him to from underground, he realized he would need to perform the summon quickly if they were to have any chance of escape. He fought to push all manner of extraneous stress out of his consciousness and focused his mind solely on channeling the energy of his sphere, just as he had in the path of the rampaging spider robot in Dollet. He cast his hand forward, and willed the power to leap from his body just as Selphie had. The aura obeyed as commanded, and before long metamorphosed into the silhouettes of the dual minotaur familiars he had come to master. Their vibrant violet furred bodies popped into existence with a flash of light, and tasked with the obstacle before them, immediately charged forward into the impassible obstruction.

With a pair of heavy blows from each of the two creatures, the gateway bulged, quaking in the face of their combined physical might. Following several more thunderous slams against the rubble, with an undetermined amount of additional loud booms coming by way of the continued ruination of the compound, the wall came tumbling down rock by shattered chunk of rock. The miniature landslide cascaded downward to roll along the roadway leading out of the base, their escape route as clear as they could possibly have asked for.

"Let's go!" he shouted, allowing the bovine beasts to fade away as he turned back to face his comrades.

"Love to!" Irvine called back, crouched by the side of Selphie, slumped over on both knees with her head hung. "But she's not budgin'!"

 _You've gotta be kidding me!_

"Selphie!" he called the girl's name as he raced back over, seizing hold of her right wrist and jerking it up. "We don't have time! We need to get the hell outta here, now!"

"I…" the girl weakly mewled, tears streaming down her cheeks from beneath her visor. "I couldn't do it… I couldn't save Trabia _or_ Balamb…"

"Snap out of it! We managed to buy them enough time! I'm sure they've already evacuated by now! But if we don't get moving, who's gonna save _us_!?"

"I can't…" she sobbed in a broken voice. "I just… I don't know what to do anymore! It's over… _everything's_ over… Dad… I really… really wanted to see you again… but it was all for nothing… I'm…"

Her final words were drowned out completely by an explosive roar unlike any Zell had heard yet, shaking the earth beneath his feet and sending him scrambling to right his footing. As he raised his head and turned his eyes in the direction of the blast, he saw the billowing flames of an ignited fuel tank begin to spread all about, sending each and every one of its nearby counterparts up in a raging blaze towering easily more than fifty feet high in total. With a final tremor to shame all others before it, the central tower buckled and began to crumble, itself consumed by the inferno which had come to encompass virtually the entire campus. And as Zell helplessly watched the imposing structure slowly fall to pieces, he understood that there could be no escape for the three of them.

 _Mom… Squall, Quistis, Rinoa… everyone… I'm sorry. I'll miss you all. Just please… be safe…_


	27. Chapter 5 - An Academy Divided

5

 **CHAPTER 5 – AN ACADEMY DIVIDED**

The winding motorway leading northeast out of Balamb was as Squall had traversed it numerous times over the years, most recently with his assigned squadmates as they had burned rubber into town scarcely one week earlier. His current return trip, in the company of two completely different colleagues than those he had departed with, proceeded at a virtually identical pace, courtesy of Quistis' lead foot pressed to the accelerator. The dense stretch of forest through which the road had been paved whipped by beyond the passenger-side window, the thick trees shrouded in the early evening darkness. A cursory glance to his wristwatch provided him the present hour, re-adjusted in advance to comply with Balamb standard time. It read _20:43_ , a total of more than twelve and a half hours since they had departed the prison train depot, two of which were owed to the time-zone differential.

The three had stepped off of the assault boat at roughly half past eight, to find the car Quistis had initially taken out from the Garden in pursuit of Seifer still parked at the dock, and quickly filed in at her behest. It had been an exceedingly long and tedious journey, rife with dread as to what would await them when they finally set foot again upon familiar shores. As his former instructor had hurriedly maneuvered the vehicle through the narrow cobbled streets, and cleared the seaside town's grey brick archway entrance, Squall was at last granted his first opportunity to breathe easy. Far in the distance, just barely cresting above the neighboring woodland treetops, the instantly recognizable floating silver and gold halo shone like a beacon in the darkness. His home still stood intact for the time being, assuring him that his comrades left behind in Galbadia had against all odds managed to stave off the missile launch.

His silent sigh of relief had been verbalized for him by the two women in the driver's seat and rear, respectively. Despite the omen of good fortune however, Quistis remained unrelenting in her mad tear down the expressway, stopping at nothing until they at last reached the gates of their home. So she had for the nearly eleven hours spent in transit, be it by train, boat or automotive. For as physically and mentally drained as Squall himself felt, he recognized the amount of strain his former instructor now operated under to be in another league altogether. He and Rinoa had at the very least managed to catch a scant couple of hours worth of sleep aboard the assault boat, after a time when the continual rocking had finally ceased to be a disturbance.

With all that had transpired in the time since their assassination mission gone awry the night before, and lacking any inkling of proper rest as she was, were he in Quistis' position, he doubted he would have been able to resist the deadly temptation to fall asleep at the wheel. That she somehow possessed the willpower to keep her eyelids from closing on themselves, much less to continue moving forward at such a breakneck pace was beyond impressive. Such was the hardened determination of a tried and tested SeeD operative, the same distinction he had dedicated his entire being to achieving for himself for as long as he could remember. Now, for the first time recognizing that the woman he had for so long regarded as little more than a pestering nuisance was the living embodiment of what he aspired to be, he understood he still had so much further to go if he were to prove himself worthy of his own newly appointed title.

After several more minutes of frantic swerving and tightly cut corners along the twisting highway, the vehicle curved onto the final straightaway stretch of road. At its terminus stood the imposing, radiant shell of Balamb Garden, as glorious in its all-encompassing effulgence as Squall had ever seen it. The sight prompted his mind to cast its recollection back to that fateful evening he had departed for Timber scarcely a week earlier. He remembered the sinking feeling in his gut as the Garden had shrunk away into the distance, an ominous premonition of the hardships that had laid ahead. Had he any idea of its true severity at the time, he may well have resorted to groveling for the headmaster to have assigned another operative in his stead. Undignified though it would have made him appear, with the benefit of hindsight, his current predicament far exceeded the responsibility to be reasonably expected of a group of fresh inductees. The initial request which had unexpectedly dovetailed into an abduction of Galbadia's now late president had already been an assignment well above their cumulative skill-set. That they had been pressed into such a precarious mission with world-rending consequences for failure immediately afterward was utterly absurd.

Directly in the path of the vehicle's headlights, the front gates opening onto the Garden premises rapidly drew closer. The roadway curved due right just before, arcing into the nearby tunnel passage leading to the interior parking garage. Just before Quistis could prepare to make the necessary turn, a shimmering swathe of magical aura shot into the sky from the grounds ahead. The energy climbed ever higher, with several more blasts following in its wake before collectively dissipating in midair. Squall clung tightly to the cushioned passenger seat as the vehicle reflexively decelerated to a cautionary cruise within seconds.

"What was that?" Quistis wondered as she carefully guided the car over to the side of the road, placing it in park beside the guardrail in front of the gate.

"Maybe a signal?" Rinoa posited from the backseat. "Do you think they already know about the missiles?"

"Possibly. But that doesn't fall in line with standard evacuation protocol. Perhaps someone got separated from their-"

"Hold on," Squall abruptly shushed her, rolling down the passenger-side window. "Listen."

As the glass partition slid down into the door, the distinct percussive rattling he had overheard became ever more prominent upon the otherwise serene nighttime air. By its sheer volume and pulsing staccato rhythm, its origin was easily identifiable.

" _Gunshots_!?" Rinoa exhaled in surprise. "What's going on in there?"

"Why would they deploy soldiers if they were going to send missiles?" Quistis frantically vied to make sense of the contradiction.

"There's no use wasting time out here," Squall affirmed as he hurriedly unbuckled his safety-belt. "Let's go."

He unwound the strap from around his torso, and snatched the sheathed gunblade from its place at his feet, before forcefully throwing open the car door to step out onto the pavement. Rinoa followed his example to his back, setting her feet down and slamming the rear door shut as Quistis killed the ignition.

"Stay close to me," he firmly ordered as he closed his own side door, and beckoned her to follow him around the hood of the car. She complied with an understanding nod, and the two quickly surmounted the dividing guardrail alongside Quistis, who had preemptively withdrawn her steel whip for protection.

The trio hurriedly raced up the short flight of steps and passed through the open gateway, arriving on the spacious foot-trail leading to the gaping, turnstiled main entrance. Squinting his eyes in effort to peer through the dimness offset only by the gleaming halo high above, Squall craned his head to and fro to take in the full lay of the outer grounds. Garden operatives and their as yet unidentified opposition skirmished in tightly knit groups across the verdant fields. Weapons fire continued to thunder from behind what cover the widespread array of brush and flora provided, flourished by the occasional whizzing and whirring of spellcraft and the resultant streaks of illumination brought on by the incantations. Still more close-quarters combatants clashed face-to-face, producing a comparatively less raucous din of steel on steel amid the ongoing symphony of warfare. Obscured in the shadows as they were, Squall could make out no distinguishing details to determine the identity of the opposing force in question. From what little he could tell however, not a one among them wore the signature Galbadian plated armor.

"I don't understand!" Rinoa half-shouted over the ensuing racket. "What's happening here?"

"Just keep your head down and stay behind me!" Quistis responded, taking point with her whip held before her. "Let's focus on making our way to the front door. Squall, keep your eyes on our rear."

As commanded, Squall spun on his heel and withdrew his gunblade from its sheathe, shifting his gaze in either direction to ensure they had not caught the attention of any roaming combatants. Neither faction appeared to have taken notice of the three newcomers, with the majority of fighters too distant from their current position or otherwise engaged in their own personal scuffles to pay any mind. He swiftly began to backpedal his way along as the two women cautiously made their way down the wide paved trail. Gunfire continued to erupt all about, forcing him to remain vigilant in the event a salvo of stray bullets came whizzing by. Momentarily releasing his left hand from the hilt of his sword, he reached down to his intertwined belts and engaged the sphere clipped to the opposite side of his waist. That he did not take the opportunity to immediately engage a protective energy shield was entirely in the interest of not drawing attention to their presence.

With a momentary glance over his shoulder, peering beyond the obstruction of Quistis and Rinoa's frames, Squall confirmed they had cleared more than half the distance to the front entrance. In the illuminated open courtyard just before, surrounded on all sides by neatly trimmed greenery and lush sloshing water fountains, a lone robed Thorn stood amid several uniformed cadets. The Garden official's frenzied bellowing to the gathered subordinates could be heard as he continued to creep into earshot, although the substance of his words still eluded him for the time being. The students all simultaneously saluted their superior before breaking off into a frantic sprint in each direction, leaving the Thorn standing by himself in Quistis' immediate path. Squall reoriented himself forward as they approached, hustling to stand beside Rinoa as his fellow SeeD took the initiative.

"Operative 39425, Quistis Trepe!" the head of the pack introduced herself, the first time in half a year Squall had heard her use her standard numeric call number instead of her former instructor number. "My squad and I have just returned from assignment abroad with urgent news for the headmaster. What is the current situation?"

"The headmaster has gone into hiding," the robed administrator impatiently began to elucidate. "For the safety of this Garden, he must be apprehended immediately. Dead or alive, it makes no difference. Now, move out!"

" _Excuse me_!?" Quistis reeled in surprise, a perfect reflection of Squall's own internal reaction. For however much the state of global affairs had shifted in the span of a week, clearly matters at home had somehow taken an equally drastic turn in the short time they had been away.

"Hold on just a moment," he spoke up, maneuvering himself to the front of the group. "I don't understand. What has the headmaster done to-"

The swift backhand cracked across his face before he could finish the question. His own free palm instinctively sprung up to shield the freshly smacked cheek from further abuse, as a wince of pain escaped through his gritted teeth.

"There is no need for you to understand!" the Thorn roared self-righteously. "It is not your place to question the wishes of the Garden Master! You will comply with the orders you have been given, or be rounded up with the rest of the insubordinates!"

' _Garden Master'?_

The thick metal whip was firmly lassoed around the robed man's collar before Squall could muster a response. With a single ferocious yank, Quistis heaved the Thorn downward, sending him toppling over with a hacking fit of protest. He collided hard against the pavement on his side, the trained SeeD not wasting a second in placing her boot atop his midriff to hold him down. Rinoa stood in the midst of the spectacle at hand, her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar in abject shock. Quistis' own face appeared not significantly less unsettled, doubtless torn by the internal dissonance of having assaulted a member of the Garden faculty.

"SeeD answers to the orders of Headmaster Cid alone!" she loudly threatened, evidently as much for her own reassurance as it was a staunch declaration of loyalty. "Now, explain! What's going on around here? Why is the headmaster being hunted?"

She slowly hoisted up the whip, raising the Thorn's ensnared neck along with it to hang parallel to the ground. His circular golden headpiece limply fell to the ground, revealing the man's concealed pallid features as he fruitlessly struggled to free himself from the stranglehold. He coughed and wheezed as the whip constricted around his windpipe, only loosening as Quistis allowed her grip to relax and his head collapsed back onto the ground.

"Quickly!" she demanded. "The lives of everyone in this Garden are at stake!"

"Hey!"

Squall raised his eyes from the ongoing interrogation playing out before him, turning his head in the direction of the outburst. A small squadron of three cadets raced out of the academy's mouth, making haste for their position. With the knowledge that their current state of affairs was predicated on some strange civil conflict, he defensively stepped in front of Rinoa and hefted his gunblade in front of him.

"What's going on here?" he snapped at the students as they slowed to a standstill just before him. "We've just gotten back from Galbadia. What's the meaning of this in-fighting? Why is there a manhunt on for the headmaster?"

"The headmaster is a traitor," the head of the group bluntly replied, as his two colleagues cautiously began inching their hands toward their respective sidearms. "For the safety of every student in this Garden, he needs to be removed from power, by force if necessary."

"That's impossible!" Quistis incredulously spluttered, retaining her choke-hold on the incapacitated administrator. "Headmaster Cid founded SeeD more than a decade ago, and has dedicated his life to upholding this Garden ever since! How could he possibly be a traitor?"

"He's in league with the sorceress!" one of the two followers blurted out. "He's plotting to surrender us all into her clutches just to spare himself! He's nothing but a spineless coward who went into hiding as soon as the Garden Master and the Thorns caught onto his plan!"

 _Who is this 'Garden Master' they keep talking about?_

"None of that makes any sense!" Rinoa shot back, peeking herself around Squall's figure. "Cid's a good man! He would never sell out his students just to save himself! But I'm begging you, please, listen to us! Everyone needs to evacuate the Garden right now! There could be-"

"Hold on a second!" the third abruptly cut her off, his eyes going wide with surprise as he stared the girl in blue up and down. "You! I recognize you!"

He frantically pivoted to his squadmates with an anxious look plastered on his face, causing a similar feeling of apprehension to well up in Squall's gut. Judging by the accusatory tone of his voice alone, he doubted the cadet's supposed recognition of Rinoa could bode well for them.

"Remember? From the broadcast! Isn't she that girl who was standing right next to the sorceress before she killed the president!?"

 _Why does it constantly seem like we're the unluckiest people on the planet?_

"Holy shit!" the leader swore in alarm, instantly reaching over his shoulder to take hold of the large mace strapped to his back. "You're all with Cid, aren't you!? Prepare to-"

A stream of white gas suddenly began to spew forth from Quistis' free hand before the cadet could finish his threat. Squall reflexively backed away from the rapidly accumulating cloud, covering his mouth and nose with his arm as he forcefully placed himself in front of Rinoa once more. With a hurried mental incantation of his own, a shimmering veil of blue flashed before his figure, shielding the pair from the frantic return-fire offered by the two cadets to the rear. A mere five, wildly off-target shots were discharged before the smoke fully enveloped the three. Squinting his eyes through the obfuscation, Squall witnessed their silhouettes stumble and fall one by one to the sleeping spell's influence.

"I don't have the slightest clue what's going on around here," Quistis admitted, at last uncoiling her whip from the downed Thorn's neck before subduing him with a swift boot to the head. "But we need to get a bead on the headmaster, fast. Let's head inside!"

Following her lead, Squall guided Rinoa to the edge of the courtyard. Hugging the encircling fountains so as to keep an appropriate distance, they carefully sidled their way around the radius of the gas cloud and into the gaping front entryway of the academy, charging straight through the turnstiles without any regard for subtlety. After passing through the equally spacious entrance hall, a short flight of stairs led them to the normally bustling central hub, now abuzz with activity in a manner Squall had never before witnessed.

The massive interior of the Garden proper, the nexus through which thousands upon thousands of students made their daily commute, had become a war zone. The deafening rattle of automatic gunfire reverberated throughout the gargantuan chamber, as disenfranchised SeeDs and cadets alike exchanged fire from behind the barriers along the walkways above and below. Massive divots in the marble tiling dotted the floor, the scattered shrapnel from each crater littering the desecrated atrium. The windows of the glass capsule elevators resting on the central platform had been shattered, as had nearly all of fish-shaped water fountains residing within the open space between the inner and outer rings. What few non-combatants remained in the immediate area scrambled for whatever protection they could find from the ongoing crossfire, just as Squall and his two companions promptly ducked down to minimize their own presence in the fray.

"It's like a full-blown civil war!" Rinoa yelped above the incessant roar of battle.

"It seems like it's some kind of uprising organized by the Thorns against the headmaster!" Quistis expounded. "I've never seen anything like it in all the years I've lived here!"

Squall elected to remain mum on the subject for the time being, recalling the several occasions of what had appeared to be friction, and even outright verbal conflict he had observed between the headmaster and his aides. From innocuous interruptions to unprecedented displays of disrespect in front of the student body at large, he had indeed noted no less than three instances in the time since the Dollet field exam. That there had existed some form of schism within the Garden administration was unsurprising to him in hindsight. For it to have escalated to such an extreme boiling point so rapidly, effectively dividing the whole of the Garden's populace against one another was an outcome far more grievous than any he could have foreseen.

"Yo!" a familiar voice from directly ahead broke him from his recollection.

He turned his head in unison with the two women to spot a pair of instantly recognizable faces hunkered down behind what remained of the central directory. The bronze-skinned, muscular heavyweight bore a bulky fighting staff nearly as tall as himself, its handle wrapped in thick red rope to match the one which secured his baggy black trousers. The silver haired, one-eyed woman beside him clutched an over-sized, blue-tinged chakram within her grasp, with six razor sharp curved spokes protruding at even intervals from its circumference.

"You made it back!" Raijin called to them with a beckoning wave. "Get over here! There ain't no cover where you guys're standin', y'know!?"

The three hastily complied, bolting over to their side as fast as they could while remaining hunched over for protection. High above, twin bursts of electricity shot forth from the atrium's outer rim, impacting on the central pillar. The resulting detonation momentarily drowned out the ongoing exchange of automatic fire, sending a sizable chunk of debris falling to the inner circle with a thunderous crash.

"Do you two have any idea what's going on here!?" Quistis shouted over the newly wrought devastation just ahead of their position.

"Not a clue!" Raijin responded, his eyes cautiously peering around the left side of the directory's shattered frame. "It all started up real early this mornin', y'know? The Thorns jus' up an' outta nowhere came over the intercom, an' said somethin' about the headmaster bein' in cahoots with the sorceress."

"And you don't actually believe that, do you?"

"I dunno what to believe anymore, y'know? It was enough for a lotta the others, though. Now, everyone's either sidin' with the headmaster, or this 'Garden Master' they keep goin' on about."

"Disturbing!" Fujin quipped, her own eye remaining fixed to the opposite pathway.

"And whose side are you on?" Squall bluntly asked, now well and truly perplexed by the supposed existence of another higher authority beyond even Cid himself.

"We been over this back in Galbadia, y'know?" Raijin cockily fired back. "We're with Seifer. Always have been, always will be."

Squall's eyes quickly swiveled to meet Quistis' and Rinoa's in turn, the three sharing a look of mutual understanding as to the implications of such a statement. Although neither of Seifer's trusted lackeys could possibly know of his own allegiance to the sorceress, nor even if he still lived for that matter, that their loyalty could still remain so firm was staggering, if not potentially worrisome. With a moment's contemplation, he understood it was best to keep truth hidden from them for a while longer, at least until a time when both of the immediate crises threatening the Garden had been successfully averted.

"Have it your way," he hurriedly brushed aside the matter. "We need to find the headmaster, quickly. Galbadian missiles may be heading this way as we speak."

" _What_!?" Raijin bellowed in shock. "Then we gotta get outta here, y'know!?"

"Evacuation!" Fujin agreed.

"Then the best thing you could do is help spread the word!" Quistis heatedly suggested. "While we search for the headmaster, you two tell everyone who'll listen that they need to start heading into town!"

"Yes, instructor!" the hulking oaf saluted, either having forgotten of her demotion, or simply opting not to be hung up by minutia in the heat of the moment.

"Caution!" Fujin forewarned, clipping her chakram to her belt.

"Yeah, be careful, y'know? Don't go losin' your heads! We'll see you in town!"

Hoisting his guard staff up with one mighty arm, the tanned muscleman began his charge around the atrium's outer ring, heading counterclockwise in the direction of the library and training center. The next moment, Fujin sprung into a frenzied dash trailing just behind, her swift movement evidently amplified by use of wind elemental energy just as Squall had practiced over the last six months.

"Just who is Seifer to those two?" Rinoa puzzled aloud.

"Their patron saint, by the way they follow him," Squall commented dryly. "But never mind that. We need to find someone who can give us a lead on the headmaster's location."

"Let's try Dr. Kadowaki," Quistis interjected. "If there's any person in this Garden I'd trust to keep a cool head in a situation like this, it would be her."

"That's probably true," he concluded, knowing that at the very least they would not need to search high and low for the practitioner's current whereabouts. "Then, let's get moving. We've already wasted too much time."

With a cautionary glance in each direction, Squall carefully beckoned Rinoa to follow his former instructor clockwise around the atrium, taking the nearest branching pathway leading to the infirmary. As the party of three vacated their immediate battleground, yet another pair of active war-fronts came into view beyond the connecting corridor's large rectangular windows to either side. Both interior courtyards spanning the open space between the main entrance and quad had devolved into a frenzied shootout to match the outer grounds. The muzzles of the combatants' weapons flashed from behind the cover of trees and bushes, momentary flickers of light in the shadows cast by the halo's illumination. By contrast, the passageway itself, though noticeably war-torn from a previous engagement, was completely empty save for a pair of SeeDs diligently standing guard by the infirmary entrance. Sheathing his blade as he approached to indicate he meant no ill will, Squall strode forward with hands raised.

"State your business," the one to the left addressed him and his squad skeptically.

"We're not here to cause any trouble," he assured the two sentries. "We need to see Dr. Kadowaki, ASAP."

"Unless any of you are seriously injured, you're not coming in," the other bluntly replied. "That's the policy we're currently operating under."

"It's urgent!" Squall insisted, a twinge of panic beginning to creep into his voice. "The fate of this entire Garden is at stake!"

"Gee, I never would have guessed _that_ ," the first irately countered with a sidelong glance out the nearby windowpane. "Those are the rules, and so long as this battle keeps going the way it is, we're not about to take any chances!"

"Well, are _these_ serious enough for you!?" Rinoa blurted out unexpectedly.

Squall spun his torso around to face the girl, seeing she had drawn back one side of her duster sweater to expose the black tank top she wore beneath. With her free hand, she took hold of the bandages he had applied to her waist the prior night, and firmly pulled them loose. The unraveling sheer white fabric gave way to the still mending claw marks inflicted by the lizard creatures. Though the bleeding had ceased, the prominent red gashes were still very clearly visible. She bent forward to reach down for the other bandages on her thighs, but stopped as one of the sentries called out in acquiescence.

"Okay, fine!" he conceded, averting his gaze from the grizzly wounds. "You can come in… _just_ you, though. Your friends are sticking right here."

"We're a squad!" the girl vehemently protested.

"Let it go, Rinoa," Quistis interrupted her oncoming tirade before it could flare into full force. "They're just doing their duty to keep the wounded from further harm. Go on in, ask around for Dr. Kadowaki, and tell her that I need to speak to her immediately. She'll let us in if she knows I'm here."

The girl frowned at the stern reprimand, standing still for a pregnant pause before proceeding forward. She passed between the two guards to meet the hissing automatic door, providing Squall a brief glimpse of the infirmary lobby just beyond as she stepped through. Various students outfitted in white coats scurried about, making haste either to or from the numerous sick bay entrances. Traditionally, a select regiment of SeeD medical specialists remained on call to assist with providing care in the event of an operation resulting in large-scale casualty figures. Even from his current viewpoint however, the amount currently on duty appeared to exceed the typical shortlist of volunteers, with several of the faces among them appearing quite young for the responsibility they now shouldered.

The door promptly shut behind Rinoa, resigning Squall and Quistis to do little but bide their time until her return. Combat continued to rage all the while from the courtyards on either side of the windowed hallway, just as the myriad sounds of battle echoed down the hall from the atrium to their backs. With any ability to influence the situation once again out of his grasp, he momentarily reflected on just how and why such a coup against the headmaster had come to be orchestrated. The thought that a kindly old man the likes of Cid, no matter the amount of times Squall had come to question his decision making, could possibly have ties to the sorceress was ridiculous, much less the notion that he would offer the entire student body to her as a form of appeasement for their failed assassination. Rather, that the timing of the uprising coincided so perfectly with Galbadia's planned missile strike was what truly gave him pause, as if to purposefully create a deliberate diversion from the incoming threat. Perhaps it was in fact this enigmatic Garden Master who possessed the very ties Cid had been accused of.

The door re-opened after roughly a minute of impatient idling, revealing Dr. Kadowaki's familiar middle-aged features. Rinoa stood to her rear, fumbling about her torso to rewind the bandaging she had removed.

"Quistis!" she addressed her friend with surprise. "You're back! I was worried sick after I saw what happened with you and Seifer on TV a few days ago."

 _It really has only been a few days, hasn't it?_

"There's no time to explain," Quistis responded as she strode forward to the door, the two SeeDs evidently convinced of her goodwill with the doctor. "We need your help."

"So this girl tells me," she motioned to Rinoa, Squall taking his cue to close the gap and stepping through immediately after his former instructor. "You're looking for Cid? I don't understand this ridiculous 'faction' mumbo-jumbo, but I know _you_ can't be with the ones who're out to get him."

"Of course not!" she affirmed as the lobby door hissed shut. "There's a chance Galbadian missiles might be heading straight for here! We need to find him and organize an evacuation as soon as possible!"

"You're _joking_!?" the usually unfazed physician reeled.

"I've never been more serious in my life."

"Well, I'm sorry, but even if that's the case, I'm going to have to stay right here. There's no way I can leave my station. There are already too many wounded on hand. We've had to pull in a few fresh medicine undergrads just to keep all the patients accounted for."

"We're not asking you to do that," Quistis insisted, seeming disheartened all the same by the response. "But you really don't have any idea where Cid might be?"

"Not a clue, dear," the middle-aged woman sighed, suddenly taking both of her hands in hers. "Not. A. Clue."

A focused stare bore directly from Dr. Kadowaki's eyes into Quistis', as a faint smile briefly flashed over her lips. With not a word more, she released her clasp and turned on her heel, hurrying back into the adjoining sick bay. Squall remained standing in solemnity, left at a loss as to where they could possibly proceed next to continue their search. As he racked his brain for the answer he so desperately sought, the motion of Quistis' arm raising upward drew the attention of his eyes, noticing the thin slab of laminate she suddenly held within her grasp.

"What's that?" Rinoa asked of the item, presumably having been slipped into her hands by the doctor.

"It's a keycard," she anxiously breathed, abruptly spinning to face one of the several hallways lining the infirmary lobby. "For one of the operating rooms!"

Understanding the implication, Squall and Rinoa took off down the hall after her, blowing by numerous reinforced steel doors each equipped with matching installed identification hardware. Though he had never found himself admitted to the sequestered surgical wing of the infirmary while conscious, there was little doubt he had been hauled in for the stitching of his new facial scar earlier that month. Quistis stalled in her tracks as she reached the fifth door along the left side of the corridor, prompting him to come to a stop alongside her. She frantically thrust the keycard into the scanner, the indicator light flashing green as the door's pressurization system automatically disengaged. Moments later, it parted to reveal a sterilized operation table surrounded by several wheeled metal trays bearing all manner of surgical equipment.

Unable to deduce the presence of any occupants from his current viewpoint, Squall took the initiative and set one foot forward into the room. As his body instinctively prepared to continue forward with his other leg, he abruptly froze as a lightning fast sheen of silver flashed out in front of him, coming to a rest just below his chin. The short-sword protruded from beyond the left side of the door, gleaming before his neck under the operation room's florescent lighting. Without moving his head, he nervously shifted his wide-eyed stare down along the blade's length, soon meeting the hand which clasped it, and following the uniformed sleeve up to meet the steely glare of Commandant Xu. To her rear stood Headmaster Cid, the back of his burgundy suit-vest pressed up against the wall so as to minimize his visibility. As his bespectacled eyes met Squall's, the man's wrinkled, anxiety-ridden features seemed to relax.

"Xu!" Quistis reflexively shrilled by his side. "I mean, Commandant! It's us! Dr. Kadowaki gave us the key! You have to believe us!"

"Who is _she_?" Xu stared fiercely at Rinoa to their rear, her outstretched blade remaining scant few inches away from Squall's throat.

"Xu, it's fine," the headmaster calmly reassured her from behind. "She was the client for Squall's team's assignment. She's trustworthy."

With an uneasy glance between the three, she cautiously withdrew her short-sword from his neck, sheathing it on the left side of her belt opposite its twin to her right. She stepped back to allow them passage into the sterilized chamber, which they were quick to oblige. The entrance hissed shut just as the tail of Rinoa's attire cleared the door-frame.

"But what are you doing back here?" Cid continued inquisitively. "And Rinoa, are you okay? What were you doing up next to Edea on the broadcast?"

"It's a long story," Squall answered in her stead. "And we don't have the time right now to explain it all. We have urgent news. Galbadian missiles may be heading this way, right now."

" _Missiles_!?" Xu's eyes bulged at the news. "Here?"

"Last we heard, they were set on targeting both Balamb and Trabia Gardens," he turned his attention squarely to the headmaster. "The assassination orders you had delivered to us went awry. Zell and Selphie stayed behind in Galbadia to sabotage the launch, but there's no guarantee they were able to stop it."

"Delivered to _you_?" Cid's eyebrows seemed to raise up in surprise.

"Is there any way of ordering a complete evacuation of the campus?" Quistis asked desperately. "I don't understand the meaning behind this conflict, but surely an official announcement about this sort of thing would at least get people moving out of here."

"The headmaster's office has been secured by the Thorns," Xu explained. "There's no way for us to access the intercom system if we can't get in there."

"Then I suppose we have no choice but to handle things the old-fashioned way," Cid sighed, his spirits evidently deflated by this most recent trying turn of events on a day already so awash with misfortune.

"We already have a pair making the rounds," Squall informed them. "But with all this chaos, and considering how many wounded there are, I can't imagine how we're going to get everyone out."

"We can only do what we can," the kindly old man affirmed. "I want you all to assist with spreading the word, and then evacuate yourselves."

"But, Headmaster!" Xu heatedly protested. "Who will be left to provide protection for you?"

"I will be fine," he insisted. "I have an idea that might save this Garden. Just get moving and inform as many students as you can. That's an order!"

After a moment's hesitation, the commandant saluted in acknowledgment, and swiftly turned to the door. She stepped on through and bolted down the hall, leaving the head of Balamb Garden defenseless save for the three gathered in his midst. Relieved of his bodyguard, Cid exhaled deeply and began to rummage through his vest's breast pocket.

"I'm getting far too old for this sort of thing," he sighed.

"Sir," Squall spoke up, feeling a sense of responsibility unlike any he had ever experienced begin to well up in his chest. "Whatever it is you're planning… please, allow me to handle it in your stead."

"And why, pray tell, would you want to do that?" the headmaster asked with a curious wilt to his voice.

"Because…"

 _Because you might screw up. Because I want to do more than just announce the evacuation. Because I want to find out your plan. Because this place is important to me, too. Because this is my home. There are too many reasons…_

"I don't know why!" he finally responded with exasperation. "What does it matter?"

"You were right, Quistis," the old man smiled past him, at last pulling what appeared to be a small key from his pocket. "He does have a hard time expressing his feelings, doesn't he?"

"But he's always ready to act on them when he knows it's the right thing to do," his former instructor quipped from behind, Squall forcibly willing himself not to wretch as he imagined that same sickening smile plastered on her face.

"You don't even know the half of it," Rinoa added, only serving to further inflame his mounting irritation.

"I'm right here!" he finally snapped, no longer caring if it painted him in an unprofessional light before the headmaster himself. "My feelings have nothing to do with this! Just please, sir, tell us your plan!"

"Very well," he acceded, extending his open palm with the key Squall had glimpsed just before resting upon it. "You may or may not know this, but… this building used to be a shelter constructed by the Centrans long before it was remodeled into the Garden as we know it. All three of the Gardens were, for that matter. When it was finished being fully re-purposed, the lead architect told me about some kind of control system tucked away deep in the lowest levels of the infrastructure. If you use this key to engage the lock on the bottom of the southern elevator's interior panel, it should allow you to descend to the MD level and find this control system. I've never been down there to see it, and have no idea what it does, but if it's a leftover piece of technology from when this place was still a shelter, then maybe… just maybe it could be effective against the missiles."

"With all due respect, sir, don't you think this is a rather serious situation to be banking on a mere hunch?"

"With the Garden in such a state of disarray as it is, it may be our only hope."

Squall stared intensely at the plain iron-cast key held outstretched before him, its surface coated with a light smattering of rust. Try as he might to rack his brain for a better alternative, he knew the headmaster spoke the truth. With the students of the academy fully engaged in their senseless civil conflict, and the impracticality of being able to effectively shuttle so many wounded off of the premises in an orderly fashion, the farfetched gambit was perhaps the only course of action available to them.

"Understood," he replied, graciously taking the key from Cid's hand before performing the SeeD salute. "Quistis and I will head on down right away and see what we can find."

"I'm coming too!" Rinoa cut in on cue, her face stern in her stubborn determination not to be left behind.

"No, you're not," Squall shot her down. "It's too dangerous out there. Just stay in here and keep the door locked."

"If the missiles hit, we'll all be blown to smithereens anyway!" she countered. "I told you, I want to help in any way I can. Why won't you just let me?"

He stood for several long moments in contemplation, knowing he could never hope to remain fully focused in his duties so long as he still felt compelled to protect her. With an impending descent into uncharted territory ahead, too much time and energy would be wasted having to ensure her safety as they progressed. And yet, against his better judgment, he somehow found himself sympathetic to the girl's plight. The refusal to be denied his own free agency and rendered helpless in the face of adversity was the exact driving motive which had led him to his career as a SeeD. He had sworn to never again allow himself to be dependent upon the strength of others to guide him through life, and had vied tirelessly to prove himself worthy of such aspirations. In light of this realization, he knew that while he could never bring himself to take her along, he ought to at the very least leave her with some semblance of duty to take pride in.

"You will be helping," he finally responded, striding over from Cid's side to speak with her face-to-face. "With the commandant gone, it'll be all up to you to protect the headmaster. That's why I want you to stay. Here."

Squall reached his right arm down to take hold of the Guardian Force sphere attached to his entwined belts, pulling it free from its clip. With his left, he took hold of Rinoa's own hand and firmly placed the device within the clasp of her dainty fingers.

"I'm going to leave this with you," he explained, a strange emotional intensity he had not felt since their waltz at the inauguration ball coming over him as he looked into her eyes. "To use it, you just need to focus your mind, and let the energy wash over you. Imagine the heat of the flames flowing from your hands. I'm sure you'll figure it out, somehow."

They stood still, eyes locked to one another for a moment before Rinoa finally broke the stare-down. She redirected her gaze to the engaged sphere in her hand, still pulsing with light from the thin sliver in the metal material. With a bewildered nod of understanding, she maneuvered it around her back to slip it into the small pouch affixed to her rear.

"I'll… do my best," she accepted the responsibility. "Are you sure you'll be okay without it?"

"I'll manage," he assured her, turning to face the door. "While we're gone, you can even use this chance to talk to the headmaster about our contract, like you wanted. Whatever the case, stay safe. Let's go, Quistis."

Squall passed through the automatically parting door, turning his head back over his shoulder as he stepped into the hall. Quistis promptly saluted Cid before presenting Rinoa with the keycard to the room, and followed him out. The door slid shut behind her, and after confirming the re-pressurization sealing was activated moments later from the inside, the pair took off back toward the infirmary lobby.

"Do you really think that was a smart idea?" Quistis asked him as they stepped back into the corridor connecting to the main atrium, paying no heed to the guards still stationed on either side. "You realize there's no way she can possibly use that without any training."

"I'm hoping it won't have to come to that," he replied, gradually raising the volume of his voice as the gunfire ahead answered in turn. "But it makes me feel better than leaving her with nothing at all!"

The duo re-entered the defiled central hub of the academy, Squall bolting at the first opportunity for the western staircase leading up to the inner walkway where the ring of shattered elevators resided. He quickly circled the path to the southern side facing the directory, and stepped inside the ruined capsule the headmaster had indicated. His eyes quickly scanned the interior panel from top to bottom, passing over the electronic keycard touch-pad utilized for access to instructor and faculty-exclusive floors, the fifteen buttons for each of the standard floors, and finally coming to a rest on the chiseled keyhole situated just below the ground floor button. Quistis silently stepped aboard as he guided the key into the slot, her lips pursed and eyes wide as she looked him over with curiosity.

"You… really care about her safety, don't you?" she asked.

"She's still my client until the headmaster says otherwise!" Squall insisted, turning the key hard with the might afforded by his frustration.

The pane-less door frames closed on command, providing no more protection from the ensuing firefight than when they had been ajar, and at last the elevator began to lower into the dark, unexplored recesses of Balamb Garden.


	28. Chapter 6 - Fortress in Flight

6

 **CHAPTER 6 – FORTRESS IN FLIGHT**

Lieutenant Biggs thrust the rear door of the transport open the instant the vehicle had decelerated to a full stop. Swinging both crimson pant legs out of the door-frame, he touched down on the sandy plains of the Dingo Desert, stretching on for miles in every direction. In the span of the previous week-and-a-half since his demotion and subsequent transfer to the D-District Prison, he had quickly become accustomed to the stark pitch blackness which wholly consumed the sprawling wasteland with each evening's routine descent. Far from the neon bustle of Deling City to the north, removed from any trace of man-made light pollution, the sparkling starlit night skies had been more vibrant than any he had observed during his years spent in the capital. He knew this night ought to have been no different, yet while the seemingly endless wasteland around him had come to be entirely swathed in shadow all the same, he could glimpse no sign of the familiar twinkling constellations above.

Billowing black smoke obscured any inkling of visibility, rising incessantly from the roaring inferno directly ahead. The charred and still smoldering remains of burnt out buildings and vehicles lay strewn about within a fixed perimeter, outlined by the former facility's collapsed exterior wall. A massive congregation of troops and their own respective military transports surrounded the enclosed wildfire on all sides, scrambling frantically across the sand in effort to be of some use in quenching the blaze. Fire-hoses sprayed from the too few emergency response vehicles among them, doubtless having only just recently arrived on the scene from one of the nearest neighboring settlements hours away. No matter their persistence, the flames were evidently too overwhelming to possibly be quelled by such comparatively meager volumes of water.

The opening of the passenger-side door to his left jogged Biggs from his dispassionate observation, promptly turning his attention to the irksome blonde in the grey coat as he stepped out onto the desert surface himself. Though he knew the utter annihilation of the missile base was under no circumstances something to take relish in, he could not help but feel a smirk creep across his lips at the gaping look of astonishment on the brat's previously smug face. Scarcely four hours earlier, he had found himself on the receiving end of the boy's spiteful wrath, subjected to every conceivable form of physical and verbal beratement for his failure earlier that morning. He had already suffered enough abuse at the hands of the meddlesome SeeDs for a second time, and no doubt earned himself yet another incoming demotion to a rank he had not held for the better part of ten years. To have later awoken from his unconscious state only to be served another helping of humiliation was almost more than he could stomach, much less the prospect of an agonizing trek back to the capital to face further punishment from whatever chain of command still remained under the sorceress' newly established rule.

The blonde strode forward with purpose to a nearby cluster of outfitted troops, anxiously huddled together as they exchanged frantic, quickfire flurries of unintelligible speech between one another. The most readily observant of the four suddenly snapped to attention by his lonesome upon taking notice of Seifer's approach, inciting the remaining three to swivel their heads in puzzlement. The next second, they too fell into formation with their comrade, offering a near perfectly synchronized salute to their two superiors.

"Sirs!" the head of the pack addressed them both. "We believe we have the situation under control. We've sent out word to any and all nearby provinces for the use of their emergency response teams."

"What the hell happened here!?" the enraged knight bellowed in frustration. " _Tell me_ they managed to get the missiles directed for Balamb Garden in the air beforehand!"

"We think so, sir!" the grunt replied in the affirmative. "We're with the deployment bound due southeast for the Horizon Bridge, per Sorceress Edea's orders. We were on our way down the Great Plains from the capital, when we suddenly saw the blast go up in the distance. It must have been absolutely massive for us to have seen it from so many miles away. Naturally, we redirected our course, and as we got closer, we could still see a number of fading white smoke trails streaming across the sky."

"And when was this?" Seifer impatiently interrogated the well-meaning officer.

"It couldn't have been more than two hours ago, sir! We've thoroughly combed over the full reach of the blast radius for survivors, but haven't found a single one thus far."

"What were those idiots _doing_ waiting so long to launch!?" the agitated brat exploded, heatedly drawing his signature gun-shaped sword from his jacket and thrusting the blade into the sand by his side in anger. Biggs reflexively stepped back in alarm as the weapon sunk into the grainy terrain, kicking up a small cloud of coarse earth in its wake.

"I _told_ them to go ahead without me! I swear, if they were really stupid enough to wait for me to get back… Edea is going to be _furious_ when she finds out about this!"

Embroiled as he was in his own mad raving, the four troops before him stood in apprehension, not daring to break formation lest his fury come to be redirected toward them. Knowing full well that the petulant child beside him was entirely unfit for the duty of leadership he had been undeservedly granted, it was Biggs who at last stepped forward to address the grunts assembled in their midst.

"Continue to scour the area," he commanded them, coming to the understanding that it would in all likelihood be his last order as a superior officer for the remaining duration of his military career. "And keep your eyes peeled for those SeeD twerps. As much as I wanna say they're probably just a few piles of ashes right now, they're a crafty bunch."

"Yes, sir!" the four exclaimed in unison with yet another uniform set of salutes, before scattering in every direction not currently impeded by the temperamental blonde. He continued to stand as still as a statue, his stare seemingly vying to bore a hole directly into the earth just beyond where his boots sunk into the think blanket of sand. Biggs smirked to himself in self-congratulatory satisfaction, content with the genuine respect the men had shown him; it was as clear a distinction as could be between his hard fought-for and rightfully earned stature in the Galbadian armed forces, and the underhanded, slimy manner in which Seifer had come to sit atop the military pecking order.

"Well, looks like I'm not gonna be the only one in for a red ass when we get back," he stated outright, not bothering to keep a smarmy intonation from seeping through into his words. In a flash, the familiar ebony blade flew out from the sand at their feet, coming to a halt just before his jugular.

"Speak to me like that again, and I'll toss you on that pyre myself!" the knight viciously spat, his piercing blue eyes illuminated by the flames as they stared unflinchingly into Biggs' visor.

The soon-to-be-former lieutenant clenched his jaw reflexively, knowing it would not be beyond the unhinged youth to follow through on his threat. After several lingering moments of uncomfortable tension, Seifer withdrew the blade from his neck and spun around to proceed back to their waiting transport. Biggs begrudgingly followed behind, allowing himself to breathe easy as best he could in the presence of such overpowering smog. As he climbed back into the rear of the vehicle and slammed the door shut against the raging conflagration, he reflected upon the words of the brown haired SeeD as he had hung helplessly from the prison's electrocution rack, and before long began to wonder if his own resolve to follow the orders of such a flagrantly spoiled child no matter the cost was in fact as unshakable as he had claimed.

* * *

The southern elevator shaft stretched on far further underground than Squall could have previously imagined. For as long as he had been a student, he had been aware only of the Garden's standard twenty above-ground floors, and until his summons to the headmaster's office two weeks earlier for his official induction into SeeD, had never ascended higher than the ballroom on the fifteenth level. As opposed to the prompt, expeditious pace he had known the central lift system to routinely operate by, the worn and beaten capsule seemed to take its time as it slunk on steadily into the depths. Whether it were a result of the damage it had sustained over the course of the day-long civil clash, or the natural speed at which it had been designed to make each rare journey downward, he could not tell.

Through the shattered window frames where glass panes once resided, he took note of yet another pair of metal doors fixed into the wall roughly halfway down the shaft. Their exteriors appeared to be adorned with a regal, gilded black and gold color scheme, the image etched upon them resembling a tangled mass of prickly vines encircling a lone floating gemstone. Squall furrowed his brow in confusion as the unfamiliar crest passed by, and redirected his gaze from the rusted walls to Quistis by his side. She met his stare in turn, her piercing blue eyes seeming to reflect his own uncertainty. No matter her year-long tenure before him, she too had evidently never been privy to the Garden's mysterious subterranean recesses. That even the headmaster himself had yet to set foot so far below ground level was enough to instill an anxious restlessness in Squall, leaving him to wonder just what sort of horrible fate could potentially await them both so far from the light of day.

Moments later, the elevator capsule finally began to slow, coming to a rest before a dank, shadowy corridor stretching onward into the blackness of the void. The doors parted in synchronicity with the familiar chime, Quistis wasting no time as she boldly stepped forward from the safety of the lift into the unknown. Squall hastily yanked the headmaster's key from its allotted indent set into the control panel before following her out, rapidly blinking his eyes in the hope they would before long adjust. With no electricity currently supplied to the long since out-of-commission lamps extending along the walls, the overhead fluorescent lighting of the elevator alone provided what little illumination they had to operate by.

"Well, I can believe no one's been down here for more than a decade," he commented, still unable to determine what lay directly ahead of them.

"We still need to be on our guard," Quistis reminded him as she rummaged through a small pouch attached to her belt. "There's no telling the kind of structural wear and tear this place has sustained over the years. At any rate, let's shed some light on the subject, shall we?"

The small handheld LED flashlight burst into prominence a moment later, shooing away the shadows from their path in an instant. At once, the gloomy, rust-laden corridor before them became far more manageable for the pair to traverse, despite appearing no more inviting. Taking a deep breath of unpleasantly scented, corrosive air though his nostrils, Squall carefully followed behind his former instructor into the unwelcoming passageway.

Jagged strips of deteriorated metal paneling had long since begun to peel away from the walls and flooring, forcing him to a cautionary crawl so as to prevent slicing himself upon the resultantly formed spikes. Basked in the newfound brightness of Quistis' torch, he could glimpse innumerable years worth of accumulated mold and grime residing underneath each upturned segment. The desecrated shelter's ramshackle and destitute state was a clear indication of its abandonment for ages before the Garden had been erected atop. For it to have been a relic of the Centran civilization implied that it must have been constructed at some point before the cataclysmic destruction of the southern continent one-hundred years prior.

From what Squall could remember of his general education history lessons, theirs had at its peak been regarded as the most technologically advanced society yet known to mankind, far eclipsing both of its schismatic offspring to the west and east respectively. Few such representations of its modern-age handwork had survived in the aftermath of the empire's ultimate end, the cause of which officially remained as-yet-still contested by the great scientific minds of the world. General consensus had long since attributed the devastation to a freak meteor bombardment, a theory seemingly supported by his own experience as Laguna at the crater's epicenter. Newer research had hypothesized it to be the work of large-scale seismic turbulence brought on by a strange gravitational imbalance with the moon, similar to how the tides periodically swelled and receded. Whatever the truth of the matter might have been, he was quick to set it aside in his mind, knowing full well the method of obliteration his own home could be subject to if they failed to pick up the pace.

The collapsing corridor finally met its end after roughly one minute of cautious traversal. As Quistis stepped on through the door frame ahead of him, the illumination provided by her flashlight suddenly became insubstantial for the massive open expanse they had emerged into. She guided the light from one end of the room to the other, its total area almost equally as vast as the main atrium, to momentarily reveal the gargantuan generator set squarely in the middle stretching upward to the high domed ceiling. A ringed, grated walkway encircled the machinery, branching off to meet a tall flight of stairs leading up to the catwalk they currently stood upon. The enclosing rounded walls bore an evenly spaced assemblage of what appeared to be large turbine engines, each contained within its own individual capsule of reinforced glass. A second elevated maintenance catwalk extended from a windowed control room on the opposite side of the room from their position, appearing accessible only by an iron-runged ladder running parallel to the generator.

"Just what kind of shelter was this?" Quistis wondered aloud as she carefully began down the dilapidated staircase, taking each step gingerly.

"No idea," Squall answered as he trailed behind. "Looks more like some kind of run-down power plant. It seems like the bulk of the shelter must have been demolished to make way for the Garden."

"I don't doubt it," she agreed as she approached the bottom of the stairs. "I guess the only thing we can hope for now is that the electrical circuits down here weren't completely gutted in the process."

"I'd _like_ to hope it won't matter so long as they managed to stop the launch," he retorted, feeling unusually optimistic on the matter in light of how long the Garden had remained standing.

"Wouldn't that just be grand?" Quistis replied as she finally touched down on the grated circular walkway. "But we both know that's not something we can count on. And that even if they did, it would only be a matter of time before the sorceress sends in the army to finish the job. With the student body fractured as it is right now, we'd be completely unprepared to handle an engagement of that size and scope. We've reached the point where we need to make sure we've exhausted every single possibility to ensure this Garden is protected."

"You think I don't realize that?" Squall snapped, circling around the generator with her to the previously sighted ladder. "Anyway, it looks like that control center we're looking for is in our sights. Let's head on up."

"Do you think this ladder will be able to support us both?" she questioned, preemptively rattling the centuries-old rungs skeptically. "It doesn't look stable."

"Then we'll take it one at a time," he acquiesced, re-positioning himself to take point. "I'll go first. If it can hold me, it shouldn't be a problem for you."

Squall clasped hold of the rung nearest his eye-level and heaved himself up, bringing his boot to rest on the one situated three spaces below. Taking a moment to re-assert his center of gravity and assure himself that his weight would indeed be supported, he slowly started to ascend, all the while resisting the urge to hurry for fear of placing excessive strain on the rusted iron. Quistis' torch remained trained to his position all the while, tracking him like a spotlight as he climbed ever higher and providing him his only visibility by which to find the next handhold. Slowly but surely, the catwalk above drew nearer, his eyes before long becoming focused only on its looming shadow and not his hands nor feet.

He had cleared roughly three-quarters of the height before a sickly creak met his ears. He froze in mid-motion, his heart sinking into his gut as several more squeaks and groans reverberated from above and below, and the ladder's frame began to buckle. An unintelligible cry sounded from below as the hinges finally gave way, and the instability provoked by Squall's weight began to draw the ladder away from the generator. His breath caught in his throat as he urgently fought against the incoming downward swing, thrusting himself forward with all of his might to push it back in place, but to no avail. The ladder finally snapped roughly a quarter of the way up from its base and toppled toward the glass-paneling of the control room, leaving him to cling for dear life as he fell backward with Quistis' spotlight continuing to trail him all the while.

The jolt came seconds later as the top crashed through the window above, Squall's legs slipping from their footholds to leave him dangling by both arms from the diagonally slanted iron frame forming a narrow acute angle. He continued to maintain his leather-gloved grip upon the rungs as tightly as he could, and braced himself as shards of broken glass rained down upon him the next moment. He utilized what lingering bodily momentum he could salvage from the impact to swing himself away from the debris, evading a sizable portion even as many smaller fragments unavoidably studded themselves into the shoulders of his jacket.

"Squall!" Quistis shrieked his name from far below. Her flashlight remained trained to his hanging figure, forcing him to squint his eyes against the blinding glare. "Are you alright!? I'm coming up, so just keep holding on!"

The light finally pivoted away as he glimpsed her silhouette scramble to mount the ladder from its still intact base. Not content to remain dangling helplessly from the makeshift monkey-bars, he carefully began to swing himself back and forth like a pendulum over the dank chasm surrounding the central grated walkway. He struggled against the additional centripetal weight of his sheathed gunblade clipped to his left, which continued to sway precariously alongside him. Before long, he had built up the appropriate level of momentum to slip his right leg into the gap between two rungs of the ladder, and bent his knee over top the one below to keep himself anchored in place.

Now steadily affixed to the bars in a manner akin to a trapeze artist, he began to raise his left leg around the ladder's side, eventually bringing his ankle to rest on the iron framing. He strained to utilize his leg as a lever by which to pull himself around the girder and onto the top, re-straightening his right as he did so. He finally loosed his clenched left fist's hold on the rung and moved it to the side, his opposite leg carefully sliding out from between the two bars as he pulled himself up by the combined strength of his two left appendages. Slowly but surely, he rounded the divide, quickly maneuvering his right hand still clinging to the underside to seize hold of the opposite side, and at long last safely lifted the entirety of his body around into the approaching glare of Quistis' flashlight from behind.

"Are you alright?" she breathed exasperatedly. Squall remained facing ahead to the shattered glass window through which the ladder formed its own connecting bridge. He did not turning to meet her face for fear of being blinded by the radiance she carried.

"Barely," he grumbled, quickly surveying his intertwined belts to ensure none of his supplies had fallen into the abyss; save for his GF sphere which he had abdicated to Rinoa on the surface, everything appeared to be accounted for.

"I really didn't think you were going to make it this time!" she blurted out.

"It's nothing new for me at this point," Squall nonchalantly brushed off the latest in a seemingly never-ending string of near-death experiences which had constituted much of his last week. "Come on, let's go. We've got work to do."

Hand over hand, he began to crawl along the nearly horizontally slanted set of rungs, inching his way forward to the partition of broken glass. The spotlight to his rear cast his long shadow across the already darkened pit below him, while illuminating the walls outside the negative space his figure occupied. His hanging sheathed weapon rhythmically clanged upon the left rail as he proceeded forward, forcing him to continually reassert his balance with each step. Fortunately, in spite of the ladder's foundation having previously given way, the footholds themselves proved up to the challenge of supporting his and Quistis' weight.

Squall's boots met the rigid, unwavering flooring of the control room shortly after, having ducked his head below the jagged glassy stalactites above to maneuver himself inside. Quistis followed through after, bringing with her the means to make out the room's interior. By contrast to the desiccated and withered hallway they had traversed to the generator room, the interior appeared far better preserved, and perhaps had even by some stroke of luck remained functional after untold ages of disuse. He stood before the core operations center, its interior comprised of numerous control terminals spread about in a semi-circular arrangement facing the bay window. A measly two steps led up out of the small concave pit up to the catwalk doorway, now rendered useless in the wake of the ladder's collapse.

"So, what now?" Quistis asked, strolling over to join him before what appeared to be the main console.

 _How am I supposed to know? Even the headmaster doesn't have any clue about what this place is, or what it does…_

His eyes intensely scanned over the controls laid out before him, remarkably few of which bore any sort of labeling he could readily interpret. Without any idea of what particulars he ought to be looking for, or even a hunch as to where to begin, he realized just how much he had taken Zell's technological expertise for granted. Easily riled though he undoubtedly was, Squall could not think of anyone else he would rather leave the examination of such archaic machinery to in his place. At a complete loss as to what to do, and with the understanding that their current dilemma demanded they make every second count, he began randomly pressing buttons, not knowing nor caring what came of the result.

"Squall!" Quistis urged him for a response. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"I don't know!" he barked back as he continued hammering away, only taking comfort from the terminal's integrated display having powered on in the midst of his brute force approach. That he had managed to elicit a response from the equipment at all was a small victory in its own right.

"Well, don't just go pressing things if you don't know what they do!" she chastised him, grabbing hold of his left arm in protest. "Whatever we're looking for isn't going to help us if you break it!"

"What else can I do!?" he snapped at her, wrestling his arm out of her hold. With one final frustrated slam of his palm on the controls, he stepped away in reluctant compliance with her concerns.

"Easy!" she fought to calm him. "I know we're pressed for time right now, but I really think we need someone who's more knowledgeable about this kind of old tech than we are! We've found what we're looking for, it's not going anywhere. So I say we head back up and see if we can find-"

Her words were abruptly drowned out by a raucous mechanized groan, prompting Squall to redirect his eyes out the broken window to its source. Quistis' flashlight followed suit, bounding from wall to wall continually as a persistent whirring began to intensify. As the illumination stayed trained for several seconds to a pair of the many encased turbine engines lining the room's circumference, Squall at once could see that the motors had begun to spin, generating a massive amount of energy. Before long, the generator room's dim interior lighting blinked into existence from above, casting away the impenetrable shroud of darkness. Whatever buttons he had pressed in his desperation appeared to have unwittingly initiated the command he had hoped for.

A sudden jolt knocked him off balance the next moment, sending him falling to one knee alongside his former instructor with a cry of alarm. Disorientated from the unexpected turbulence, he was just as quickly struck by another sensation, a nauseating feeling as if the room had begun slowly spinning around him. As he raised his head to examine his surroundings, he came to the stunning revelation that it was in fact closer to reality than he would have otherwise believed. The circular divot within which the control center rested had begun to rotate counterclockwise with them atop. The terminals which had just moments ago been positioned facing toward the window had swerved along the circumference nearly ninety degrees to face the stairs leading to the door, and showed no indication of slowing. A series of metallic pings sounded as a set of rustic iron railings suddenly began to extend upward from the floor all along the borders of the circular stretch, save for one small gap opposite from the consoles.

"What is _this_!?" Quistis shrieked on all fours, attempting to steady herself against the rotation.

Squall had not the faintest clue what the purpose behind the sudden inversion of the control center's layout could be, but remained fastened to the spot on one knee as the terminals finally came to a rest a full one-hundred eighty degrees from the window. Just as he prepared to stand, another jolt from below kept him stationary, and the next moment, he realized that the platform was rising. His eyes shot upward to the ceiling, to discover a gigantic hole the exact dimensions of the newly guard-railed control center had opened in the interim. Flashing trails of blinking lights lined the darkened shaft overhead, stretching up far beyond his line of sight, likely ascending to above ground level. As the makeshift lift continued its climb, quickly picking up speed at a breakneck pace, he knew they would uncover the answer soon enough.

"Based on how far we walked from the elevator!" Squall shouted to Quistis over the racket produced by the whirring. "Where do you think we are under the Garden!?"

"Right now!?" she yelled back, barely able to raise her neck to look him in the eyes. "If I had to guess, probably right under the main entrance hall! You think it's taking us back up to the surface!?"

He did not answer her, instead keeping his eyes firmly fixed to the shaft above. The resultant breeze brought on by their ascent whipped through his hair, and as he brought up his hand to clear away the wavy brown locks from his vision, he could see a second opening fast approaching. Fluorescent lighting seeped out from the periphery as they drew closer, until at last the platform zoomed through and onward into yet another circular shaft in the ceiling which had parted automatically to allow them passage. Straining his eyes to peer through the platform's surrounding railings as they shot on by, he realized they had indeed ascended through the entrance hall's flooring, only to pass on through the ceiling and re-emerge from the southern stretch of hallway on the Garden's second level. Next came the third, and then the fourth.

Higher and higher the lift rapidly climbed, coming to stem the whole of the academy as floor after floor continued to whip by before Squall's eyes. SeeDs and cadets alike still engaged in their frenzied civil dispute seemed to stall in their tracks as they passed, their stares turning with puzzlement and wonder to mirror his own. He soon redirected his own attention back to the series of incised openings above him, only to come to a horrific realization: after several more floors, the series of miniature shafts in the ceiling met naught but a solid pitch black void at the end. There was no more light beyond which he could see, no indication of an opening to lead them any higher, and he knew the speed of the platform was such that it could not possibly slow to a stop in time. Realizing the impracticality of leaping off at such high velocity with the presence of the surrounding guardrails, he shut his eyes tightly in dread, bracing himself to be flattened against the ceiling.

The impact was remarkably lighter than he had initially anticipated. With a series of loud tears, the massive chunk of fabric which had laid stretched out atop the final opening gave way, coming to rest on his back just as the platform slowed in its ascent and finally came to a halt. Still stricken with disbelief as to the fact that he had survived, Squall finally rose from his knees to wrest hold of the cover and toss it away. As the torn circular patch of red carpeting cleared his head, with the assistance of Quistis who had emerged from its clutches to stand by his side, he quickly swiveled his head around to take in the familiar bearings of their final destination.

Surely enough, the elevated platform had raised itself all the way up to the headmaster's office, coming to a rest directly before the mammoth bay window overlooking the darkened Alcaud Plains to the south. His mind still struggling to comprehend the absurdity of the manner by which they had been shuttled up through the entire Garden, Squall raced over to the surrounding railing and peered down to survey the mayhem their arrival had wrought. A truly massive titanium pillar extended through the hall's once spotless red carpeting, upon which four Thorns stood all around in stark silence, staring the synthetic protrusion up and down in utter shock. The lone gap in the rusted guardrail to the rear sported an ingrained set of metal rungs, extending downward to where the flooring and pillar conjoined.

" _You_!" one of the robed usurpers at last roared out to him in anger. "What are you doing!? What is the meaning of this… _thing_!?"

"Squall!" Quistis called out to him from behind before he could muster a response. "Look outside!"

He swiveled back around to face the window, noticing the brilliant luminescence provided by the academy's floating halo ring above had unexpectedly grown brighter still. His confusion turned to bewilderment as it slowly began to descend around the full lay of the campus beyond the glass. It proceeded to dip further toward the earth by the second, until at last it touched down just beyond the outer walls, and a sensation akin to each time he had utilized his flotation-buffer technique came over him. It was only as the ring appeared to continue its trajectory in spite of having just reached ground level that he realized it was the Garden itself that had begun to levitate. A loud hiss stole his attention from the exterior and redirected it to the center of the newly established bridge. From a slim parted indent set into the metal surfacing rose an iron-cast wheel akin to a ship's helm, its purpose immediately apparent if no less unbelievable.

 _You mean to tell me this place can_ fly _!?_

"I _asked_ you, what the hell is going on here!?" the Thorn from before shouted as he surmounted the pillar's rungs and started directly for Squall. "What is this!? How did you get up here!? Did the headmaster set you up to th-"

"Squall, the missiles! _They're here_!"

He forcefully shoved the robed man away from him without a word, sending him falling to the platform with a grunt, and followed Quistis' pointed finger out the window and into the southwestern night sky beyond. A flurry of blazing fiery trails pierced through the blackness in the distance, each producing its own stream of pure white smoke as they approached at great speed. His worst nightmare had indeed been realized; the missile base team had failed to stop the launch.

"Damn it all!" he swore, racing over to the wheel and seizing hold of a pair of spokes in both hands. "We need to figure out how to move this thing, fast! There's got to be an accelerator here, somewhere!"

"Hey, you little punk!" a voice over his shoulder chided him, just before a hand firmly seized hold of it. He craned his neck back to meet the deadly serious eyes of the Thorn from beneath his signature head-wear, before noting a second also having arrived to help up the one he had previously knocked over.

"Lay your hands on another one of us again and I'll have your head brought to the Garden Master myself! Now answer me! What's happening here!?"

"We're all going to be reduced to fine dust if we don't get this place moving in about ten seconds, _that's_ what's happening here!" Squall angrily spat at the administrator. "If you value your lives, then start pushing buttons!"

"And just where do you get the gall to speak to _me_ like that, sol-"

The firm clasp of the man's fingers released itself as the entire room jerked forward suddenly, Squall himself clinging tight to the helm as the whole of the Garden appeared to begin creeping forward at a slow and laborious pace. The plains far below seemed to draw ever so slightly closer, the illumination of the inverted halo ring spreading little by little across the land, guiding them onward.

"I'm not sure what I just did!" Quistis hollered back from one of the terminals situated along the circumference. "But it looks like it's working!"

"Keep it up!" Squall urged through gritted teeth, fighting to keep the hovering academy's trajectory perfectly straight to maximize the accumulated momentum. Through the window, he could see the vast forested stretch of land leading west toward Balamb succumb to the billowing gale produced by the mobile fortress, the leaves whipping and whirling about uncontrollably as it neared. Upon the winding roadways they had traversed not even an hour before, dozens of fleeing vehicles appeared as mere ants as they collectively burned rubber into town; the dual informants' efforts combined with the commandant's own had clearly not gone to waste.

"It's going to be a nail-biter!" Quistis declared as the missiles drew ever closer to their position by the second.

"What the hell are those!?" the last of the four Thorns to have arrived on the platform blurted out, finally having taken notice of the now frightfully close warheads. That their sleek black bodies, previously all but invisible against the night sky, could now be even vaguely ascertained was reason enough to send Squall into a panic.

"Please, just move… move… _move!_ "

All fell silent in the wake of his plea, the missiles making their final descent in a pre-programmed dive-bomb formation. Their figures soon disappeared from sight beyond the window's upper lip, soaring directly above the Garden itself, and he held his breath fast in dread anticipation. Moments later, it was forcefully expelled from his lungs by an explosion unlike any he had ever borne witness to. The entire structure shook violently as a veritable sandstorm instantly blotted out any trace of the outside world. His grip on the helm faltered, sending him toppling over onto his side with a painful thud in tandem with every other occupant of the headmaster's office, and undoubtedly every other occupant of the Garden as a whole. The deafening roar of the detonations bored into his mind, just as the priceless plaques and awards lining the walls of the great hall fell from their hangers and shattered.

And yet no matter the ensuing devastation both within and without, nor the thick smoke which had completely enveloped all in sight, Squall understood that he was indeed still among the living. The structural integrity of the Garden all around him had remained intact, seeming to have just barely moved out of the blast zone in time to elude complete obliteration. What ancillary damage the hull had sustained from the ensuing shrapnel would be all but negligible when compared with the extinction-level event the entirety of SeeD had survived by the skin of their collective teeth. Seconds passed in stunned silence upon the command deck, as he shakily rose to his feet alongside comrade and foe alike. The floating castle proceeded forward through the dank smog, and within moments, the first glimpse of the starlit horizon beyond peeked through the smokescreen, leading them onward to the island's southern shore.

"I… I can't believe it," Quistis finally broke the silence, the quaver in her voice perfectly reflecting the awestruck expression plastered on her face. "When the headmaster told us about the remains of the shelter down below, I honestly didn't know just what we were going to find. But… the Centrans really built something like _this_?"

"So, you _are_ with Cid!" one of Thorns proclaimed, extending his arm in accusation.

"We just _saved_ you backstabbing bastards!" Squall shot back, pulling his gunblade from its sheathe and deftly stepping forward into the space between them. "And unless you want me to revoke that selfless act of kindness right here and now, I'd say a little gratitude is in order!"

"You've got _mine_ , if that's any consolation!"

Squall abruptly turned his head with the Thorns and Quistis to peer down from the elevated bridge to the entryway. Commandant Xu stood with her head raised to meet their stares, her expression appearing torn between disorientation and relief.

"I'm don't have the slightest idea just what you two did to make this happen," she brazenly admitted. "But I'm _damn_ proud of you both."

 _Don't worry, we know just as much about it as you…_

"We're headed straight for the sea!" one of the Thorns bellowed in panic from behind. Squall about faced to the window for the umpteenth time in the span of mere minutes, recognizing they were indeed approaching the beach directly ahead at an uncomfortably brisk pace.

"Whatever you did before," he turned to Quistis. "Is there any chance you can work it in reverse to slow our momentum?"

She wasted no time with a response, instead turning to survey the controls she had worked beforehand.

"There's no way we're going to slow to a stop in time!" another of the robed men frantically declared. "How do we know this place won't sink like a stone in the water!?"

"If you traitorous snakes want to jump ship, be my guest!" Xu angrily snapped from below, hurriedly working her way around to the headmaster's obstructed throne wedged between the window and the base of the pillar. "Trust me when I say, you'll be doing the rest of us a massive favor!"

As Quistis continued to labor away in front of the unfamiliar terminal, Squall tracked the commandant's movements to the fore of the pillar. He saw her hastily yank the wired intercom receiver from the grand seat's left armrest, raising it to her mouth as she depressed the adjacent switch and the signature four-tone chime reverberated throughout the hall.

" _Attention, all Garden students and staff! This is Commandant Xu Adrastia speaking. We are currently en-route for a rough collision into the sea. I am asking that everyone please remain calm and brace for impact immediately!_ "

As commanded, he grabbed hold of the nearby stretch of railing along the platform, his eyes fixed out the window as the flotation ring finally crossed over from atop the last of the green plains to the thin stretch of sandy shoreline. It soon passed over the border of crashing waves, proceeding onward at a seemingly unimpeded pace until at last the halo gradually slipped beneath the waters a ways out into the deep, giving credence to the Thorn's paranoia. A sizable tremble followed as the unimaginable weight of the Garden touched down on the ocean surface, generating a massive splash liable to generate a full-scale tidal wave to their rear.

Squall hung on tightly to the guardrail, managing not to lose his footing in the face of the tremor. When compared to the devastating blast of the missiles, it was nothing beyond his ability to compensate for. More promising still was that despite the flotation ring having dipped beneath the surface, its radiant shimmer now muted by the water's obfuscation, the Garden itself showed no signs of following suit. It momentarily stalled in its path for the first time since becoming mobile, either by the force of the resulting waves or Quistis' handiwork, but appeared to remain contentedly afloat all the same as it leisurely coasted further into the open sea.

"Phew!" Quistis finally exhaled, bent over in exhaustion at the fore. "What a way to cap off the most stressful week of my life!"

Squall opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the commandant's continued amplified announcement to the Garden population.

" _Your attention once more, please! We appear to have safely come to a rest on the surface of the ocean. We will remain adrift for the time being,_ _until a determination is made as to our next course of action. For those as yet uninformed, we have just survived a targeted missile bombardment from Galbadia. In light of these circumstances, I am hereby declaring a formal ceasefire between both factions of this ridiculous civil conflict. Students with an ID number ending in an even digit not previously assigned to safeguarding the junior classmen,_ _you are to assist with gathering the wounded and bringing them to the infirmary. Everyone else, start cleaning up this mess, on the double!_ "

The intercom clicked off with the same four note chime, bringing with it a restored sense of order to the ravaged academy. Before Squall could so much as catch his breath for the first time since the previous afternoon, Xu's uniformed figure suddenly fired upward from beside the pillar, soaring high into the air by way of evidently unnatural means. She landed gracefully on the command deck, her steely eyes coming to rest on the four robed men gathered together by the rear ladder.

"Get _out_!" she ruthlessly menaced, crossing her arms in front of her waist to take hold of the twin short-swords sheathed on either side of her hips. "And go tell that slimy toad that if he so much as _thinks_ of trying something like this again, I'll chop off his fingers one by one and force-feed them to him!"

"You'll regret those words, you little shrew!" the head of the pack threatened in return, before gesturing to his colleagues to file down the ladder. One by one they retreated down the rungs, Xu's stare not breaking from them as they quickly crossed back over what remained of the once regal carpeting and through the door into the adjoining elevator hall. Her features relaxed but little as she turned back around to face the two gathered behind her.

"I don't suppose you two have the exact controls figured out, do you?" she asked, clearly already knowing the answer to come.

"Not at all," Quistis admitted. "It was sheer dumb luck we managed to get it activated at all. It's something we'll just have to figure out on our own in the coming days, but right now I think it would be best to put our focus on mending relationships and treating the wounded."

"Agreed," the commandant sighed. "Regardless, dumb luck or not, the bravery you two have shown today exceeds that of any SeeD to have ever served this Garden, at least for as long as I've been an operative. I'll see to it that you are both appropriately commended for this."

"Thank you," the two graciously saluted together. Squall's racing heart continued to pound in his chest, intensifying with the acknowledgment of yet another new honor to be bestowed upon him, and the greater level of responsibility it would almost certainly bring with it.

"Let's just hope the worst is behind us, for now," Quistis optimistically opined.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that just yet," Xu warned, her eyes trailing back to the entrance as she turned to take her leave. "The battle might be over, but remember to keep your wits about you at all times… oh, and Leonhart?"

She abruptly swiveled back to face Squall, her eyes boring into his with a peculiar, inquisitive stare.

"I just want to tell you that as of tonight, you've more than earned your keep as a SeeD. After the incident at Dollet, I wasn't fully convinced that giving you a pass was the right thing to do. But I'm pleased to say, that I couldn't have been more mistaken. You're exactly the kind of person this army needs."

With the unexpected parting words of encouragement, each piercing through his chest like a bullet as they came, the commandant turned back around and leaped to the bottom of the pillar, disappearing from his immediate sight. He had already long since determined his SeeDship to be nothing more than a sham, obtained upon a technicality which he had no moral right to have taken advantage of. To now have received such glowing praise directly from the commanding officer of SeeD herself completely out of the blue was astonishing. And in spite of whatever lingering doubt still weighed upon his conscience, for the very first time in his weeks-long military career, he truly believed himself to be worthy of the cause he served.

He had come home.


	29. Chapter 7 - The Proprietor

7

 **CHAPTER 7 – THE PROPRIETOR**

The single candle set upon the circular wooden table continued to burn all by its lonesome, casting long shadows across the floor of the tavern. There existed no other light source at such a late hour to contest its eminence, leaving it as the sole glimmer of illumination piercing through the surrounding darkness. Laguna's eyes remained transfixed to the dancing flame, hopelessly pining for it to shoo away the gloom which had fallen over his heart. He understood the futility of such fantastical wishing; no matter how many hours he stayed sitting by its side, the relief he so desperately sought would not come. He had already spent too many over the course of the last two nights, his inability to sleep soundly being his only excuse as to why he could not bring himself to return to bed with his equally emotionally distraught wife.

He had returned home days earlier from yet another routine excursion, the umpteenth of many since he had signed on with the Timber Maniacs publishing company more than a year before. At his old friend's behest, he had eventually found the courage within himself to make the journey back to the besieged city for a meeting with the chief editor, and resultantly been hired on as a freelance contributor. In spite of whatever reservations he may have held at the time, or his concerns of leaving the two most important ladies in his life defenseless with each trip, the life of a travel journalist he had long aspired for was finally his.

Even with her own secretly-held misgivings, Raine had proven to be nothing but supportive of him when he had told her of his intentions, and elated when he had successfully gotten the job. And so, as a sign of the loyalty and genuine love he had come to harbor for both her and Ellone, and a reassurance that he would always find his way home no matter how far his new career might take him, Laguna had followed up the daring proposal with yet another. Though he had been forced to take out a loan in order to afford the ring he had purchased in Timber, the teary-eyed expression of joy as he had presented it to her upon the moonlit rolling bluffs was something no amount of money could ever buy.

For a while, things had gone on without any complications. He would intermittently depart the sleepy village of Winhill, fortunately no longer plagued by a significant influx of wild monsters, and be free to explore regions of the continent he had yet to see firsthand. With each new locale visited, and each new article written, his reward would be twofold: the look of elation on the faces of his family whenever he finally returned, and the funds to better support them and their life together. For more than a year the three had lived together in happiness, providing Laguna the sense of personal fulfillment he had always longed for. Not a day would go by that he ever felt the need to stop and wonder if he had made the right decisions in his life; there was nothing more he could reasonably ask for, and no hardship that could possibly come his way he could not surmount with them by his side. Now seated in silence, his mind befuddled and scattered as he struggled to come up with a plan of action, he was well and truly lost. The eventuality he had feared from the very beginning, one that with each passing day he had started to believe might not be so, had finally come.

A set of quickfire raps on the tavern door abruptly jerked him from his trance-like state. The chair noisily rattled to his rear as he shot to his feet, and placed his left hand on the table to maintain his sense of balance. With a short inhale through his nostrils to compose himself, he strode across the short divide to the door, cautiously unfastened the deadbolt, and slowly swung it ajar. The brisk night air instantaneously washed over his skin as he did so, causing the hairs on his exposed forearms to stand up on end. Immediately before him, standing in the illumination provided by the tavern's exterior porch lighting, was his nearest and dearest friend from a life left behind.

"I came as soon as I heard about the raid," Kiros rapidly spoke to him, disregarding any pretense of formality. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," he greeted him without enthusiasm, and stepped back out of the door frame to let him pass through.

The slender man's signature beaded dreadlocks swayed in the night gale as he made his way inside and over to the candlelit table. Laguna quickly closed the door and followed behind to re-take his own seat opposite him. He had intuitively been expecting his friend's arrival to come at any moment, which had only served to amplify his restlessness over the past two days. He had hoped that being able to confide his woes in someone he trusted would help him to find the strength he so desperately needed, and the resolve to determine which path to take at the crossroads he now stood at. As he lowered himself once more into the wooden chair, and peered through the flickering flame to meet the man's face swathed in shadow, his tongue caught in his throat as he realized he knew not where to even begin.

"Everything _looks_ like it's in one piece," Kiros casually observed, his eyes darting around the bar's gloomy interior. "I didn't see any signs of damage to the rest of the town coming up the main drag, either. Is everyone okay?"

" _Okay_?" Laguna incredulously echoed. Unable to contain the mounting frustration any longer, he slammed his balled right fist down on the circular oak table, exercising just barely enough restraint to keep it from toppling over onto the floor.

"No, Kiros, everyone's _not_ okay!" he vented, feeling as though his very soul were on the verge of tearing apart at the seams. "They took Elle, dammit!"

The table wobbled about in a fit of instability, finally coming to a rest as Kiros seized hold of its edges in both hands and carefully guided it back into parallel positioning with the ground. The candle set in the center had miraculously remained stationary all the while. Though Laguna could recognize the unbecoming nature of his outburst, he could scarcely help himself but to act so vehemently in light of such horrible developments. Seconds passed in stark silence save for a series of labored inhales and exhales, before he finally raised his eyes back up to his evidently startled friend, and began anew.

"I'm… I'm sorry," he sincerely apologized. "It's just… how the hell am I supposed to deal with something like that?"

"Let's just take things from the beginning, Laguna," Kiros spoke in a reassuring tone, gingerly attempting to maneuver the conversation back to the facts. "I'm shocked enough that they actually came back. Didn't you say they already took every other young girl in the village the first time?"

"You're damn right, they did," he confirmed, himself unable to believe history had come to repeat itself in such a quaint, unremarkable little hamlet as theirs.

"So does that mean that out of an entire town's population, Adel didn't find a single _one_ worthy of becoming her successor? And if that's true, then why would they come back here if they thought they'd already cleared this place out? It doesn't make any sense."

"What's there to make sense of!?" Laguna snapped, feeling tears begin to well up in his eyes. "She's gone, and it's all my fault! All because I wasn't here to protect her!"

"You couldn't have known," Kiros hopelessly fought to console him. "And what I'm trying to say is that _they_ couldn't have known she was still here, either. And even if they somehow did find out, why would they go so far out of their way to kidnap this _one_ little girl they missed the first time instead of trying again somewhere else? That's what doesn't make sense to me… unless we're supposed to believe they were searching _specifically_ for her from the start, which is just ridiculous."

"I don't care what the reason for it was," he mewled, his head hung in defeat. "I just… dammit, I don't know what to do anymore. Raine's been a complete wreck ever since I got home two days ago. She's barely been able to get out of bed. I'm trying my best to provide all the emotional support I can right now, but… well, I think you can tell I'm not holding up much better. Ellone meant the world to me. She was the closest thing I've ever had to a real daughter. I loved her so, so much… and now she's gone forever."

"Stop talking like that!" Kiros chastised him, bringing his own open palm down on the table in exasperation. "She's _not_ gone forever! Not yet, anyway. And if she really is that important to you, then you know exactly what you've got to do. You need to pick yourself up out of this slump you're in, and go bring her back."

"You think I haven't already thought of that?" Laguna muttered with resentment. "Believe me, there's nothing I'd love more than to hunt down each and every one of those bastards until I find her. But if I leave… who'll be left to take care of Raine?"

"Wouldn't the rest of the townspeople be willing to help? She runs the local watering hole, there's got to be plenty of regulars around here who'd be happy to step up."

"Yeah, but…"

A prolonged hush fell over the bar as Laguna internally debated his next course of action. It was true that he cared deeply for the sprightly little five year-old, and could not bear to go on another day without the love and warmth she brought to his existence. He knew in his heart that it was the moral obligation of any able-bodied man to protect his children, and even to place his own life on the line if necessary for the sake of their well-being. Despite Ellone not being his own biological daughter, he had come to care for her no differently than if she were, to the point where such distinctions had been rendered all but meaningless to him. And yet, for however fiercely his heart screamed at him to take off racing into the night, not stopping until he finally reached Esthar on the other side of the globe, there remained a single lingering doubt which kept him anchored to the table with indecision: would such noble intentions justify him abandoning the woman he loved in her most vulnerable hour?

"Laguna," Kiros spoke his name, his voice brimming with sympathy. "Listen to me. I don't envy the position you're in right now, at all. I understand this is the kind of choice that no man should ever be forced to make. But if you don't get yourself moving right now, if you just stay here with Raine and try to pretend things will somehow turn out alright, then the two of you will never be truly happy again, and you know it. With every moment wasted, the chances of you ever seeing Ellone again grow more and more slim. So, if she really means that much to you, then now is the time to take action. We need to get ourselves into Esthar any way we can."

" _We_?" Laguna's eyes shot up from the table in surprise. Shrouded as his already dark features were by the surrounding shadows, he could still identify Kiros' tightly pursed lips as they quickly curled into a gentle smile.

"You don't think I'm just going to let you run straight into enemy territory by yourself, do you?" he quipped. "The last time I did that… well, you wound up all the way out here. Who's going to make sure you don't end up getting taken in by another pretty face?"

"So, even at a time like this, you still find a way to bust my balls," Laguna grumbled, suddenly finding himself torn between wanting to smirk at his friend's smart remark, and pummeling him into the floorboards for its sheer insensitivity.

"Only because I care," Kiros responded, the slight grin remaining plastered to his face. "Hell, one mention of this to Ward, and I'm sure he'd drop everything in an instant to come along, too. Because you're our friend, Laguna."

He could feel his face become uncomfortably flush, exacerbating what warmth was already provided by the candle's flame. It was a combination of embarrassment and pride which had brought on the physiological response; the knowledge that even now he still had friends who would gladly follow him to the ends of the earth was humbling, and at once filled him with the determination to set things right for the future of his family.

 _Thank you, Kiros…_

"Wait here," Laguna firmly announced as he rose from his chair. "I'll be right down."

With not another word more, he moved himself toward the staircase leading up to the tavern's second floor, and slowly began to climb the wooden steps. He took his time so as to stifle any excess creaking, and before long poked his head up to peer through the gaps in the upstairs banister. Raine's outline remained huddled up in the sheets of their queen-sized mattress, as had been the norm for virtually every waking moment of the previous two days. She appeared stationary, her sleep evidently undisturbed by the rage he had flown into on the bottom level. The large duffel-bag of clothes, toiletries and other miscellaneous travel effects from his latest trip likewise rested unpacked by the bedside; his disbelief at Ellone's kidnapping and deep concern for his wife's well-being had taken precedent over all else upon his return. It now patiently waited for him to seize hold of its straps once again, and embark on the greatest and most perilous adventure of his life thus far.

He carefully surmounted the last several steps, and crept across the carpeted floor to reach the foot of the bed. He stalled for but a moment, his gaze torn between the woman he loved, helplessly curled up in what warmth the duvet could provide, and the bag he would soon be forced to live out of for a span far longer than any other he had been away from Winhill. Finally, his eyes broke from both, shifting along the right hand-side to where a dividing partition of painted drywall with a door had been erected, segmenting roughly one third of the formerly single-room top floor. Laguna, with the assistance of one of the town's local carpenters had performed the renovation shortly after his and Raine's marriage, both to allow the growing girl her own personal room, and allow themselves the nighttime privacy they sought. Knowing there now slept no beautiful little angel within that room was sheer agony, and his desire to return her there insurmountable.

He took hold of the bag's hand-holds and slung them over his left shoulder, before striding over to stand beside his still-sleeping wife. Even in the darkness broken only by the moonlight shining through the window, her eyes remained visibly puffy from innumerable tears shed. A single cup of water and the remnants of the meager dinner Laguna had prepared sat on the nightstand beside her, alongside her most beloved framed photo of the three of them. No matter how much it would pain him to leave her in such a vulnerable state, nor the hurt she would likely feel when she woke up the next morning to find him gone, he knew Kiros to be right. The time for standing still was long past.

"Honey," he softly whispered, as much for his own peace of mind as hers. "I'm… I'm sorry. But I can't stay here any longer. I have to go… I have to go find Elle. She means the world to me, and I'd happily give my life for hers if it really came down to it. But I promise you, it _won't_ come to that. I _will_ stay alive, and I _will_ bring her back, no matter what. I love you."

Laguna bent forward over Raine's body, still yet to stir, and placed a tender kiss upon her cheek for what he desperately hoped would not be the last time. He righted himself quickly, and rounded the bed back toward the stairs, stopping only at the mahogany gun-cabinet erected along the opposite wall. He retrieved his assault rifle from within, slinging it over his opposite shoulder, before unzipping the duffel-bag and stuffing every spare ammunition cartridge inside, wedging them between bundles of packed clothing to make use of every last bit of spare room. His preparations complete, he quietly closed the door of the cabinet, and made for the stairs, gingerly descending back down to the bar as stealthily as he could. As he prepared to fully pass the boundary of the bedroom floor, he turned his head back one last time to look through the banister, and just barely manged to contain a gasp of surprise as he did so.

Raine swung her legs out from the sheets to sit upright upon the edge of the bed, and took hold of the framed picture set on her nightstand. She drew the photo in closer to her face, her gaze intently fixed to the happy image of the three, eternally preserved in a time Laguna had vowed would one day come again. And as her last words to him met his ears, regardless as to whether she knew he were listening, his resolve became absolute.

"I believe in you…"

* * *

Quistis stood idly before the steel-plated door, frozen to the spot as she suddenly reconsidered the timing of her visit. When considering the lack of devastation adorning the corridors relative to the rest of the academy at large, it appeared the Garden dormitories had not been a significant front in the suspended civil conflict. Scant few students traversed either end of the hall she loitered within, the majority appearing to have awoken and begun their day no differently than if their home were still firmly rooted to the soil of the Alcaud Plains. With all classes and extracurricular activities canceled for the foreseeable future, there was no doubt their collective manpower would be swiftly put to use elsewhere in the rebuilding efforts, if not by their own volition, then by a stern command from the commandant or other superior SeeD officers.

Scarcely twelve hours had passed since their unbelievable escape from the Galbadian missile strike, nearly all of which Quistis had spent sound asleep in her own quarters. The events of the previous two days had without question been the most stressful and draining of her year-long SeeD career, both physically and mentally. She could imagine it to be no different for Squall, or perhaps even more so when considering him to still be a fresh inductee not yet fully accustomed to a life in the field. And so she found herself hesitantly standing before his door, only now coming to the realization that perhaps a long rest would be more beneficial than any words of encouragement she could give.

 _No, what am I thinking? This isn't about me. I'm just here to make sure he keeps his promise, that's all._

Her mind finally made up, she rapped hard on the door twice, and patiently waited for a response. A distinguishable rustling kicked up on the other side, followed by a series of stumbling footsteps drawing near. The handle twisted and the door swung open to reveal Squall standing in its frame, eyes bleary and unfocused. He still wore his signature black jacket and pants combination with a white undershirt, the hole torn through the leather under his right shoulder indicating he had yet to change clothes since the previous night. Thoroughly exhausted though she had been, Quistis had at the very least bothered to undress herself for the night and changed back into her SeeD uniform with the morning's call.

"What is it?" Squall muttered, seemingly irritated by the abrupt awakening.

"Just thought I'd swing on by to check in," she replied nonchalantly. "Did you sleep in your clothes?"

"I guess so," he murmured, casting his eyes downward to take a look at his own attire. "I just about collapsed into bed the moment I got back here."

"I don't blame you. I'm sure this last week's been an absolute nightmare for you… for all of us. I still can't believe we survived. But, it seems like we should be safe for the time being."

"The fact that the missiles came," he bluntly stated, his tone turning dour. "Does that mean that the others were…?"

The question hung in the air between them, forcing Quistis herself to consider the implied ramifications. That the bombardment had arrived at all was reason enough to believe Zell, Selphie and Irvine's infiltration had been foiled. However much she hoped for their safety, their ultimate fate should they have been uncovered was abundantly clear to her. With the Garden presently adrift on the open sea, leaving them entirely disconnected from the subterranean HD cable transmissions network, they were well and truly cut off from civilization at large. The state of world affairs and Sorceress Edea's ongoing conquest would remain perpetually unknown to them until a time when they finally ran ashore.

"You're worried about them, too?" she finally broke the awkward silence.

"I wouldn't say _worried_ ," he brushed away the sentimentality in her words. "But… isn't it natural for me to feel some amount of responsibility? I was the one who gave the order for them to head out to the base. If they were captured and killed, then it's all down to my failing as a leader."

"That's quite a change coming from you," Quistis replied, feeling a strange sensation of hope begin to swell up in her chest. "Didn't you say before that you didn't want to feel weighed down by anyone else's burden? The night of the graduation ball, remember? Maybe now you can understand how I was feeling then, and how sometimes people just need someone to talk to when they're struggling with so much stress and anxiety."

"Was there something you wanted?" Squall grumbled irately, apparently not taking kindly to her re-opening of old wounds. With a sigh of dejection, and a quick roll of the eyes at his stubbornness, she swiftly cut her loss and proceeded to divulge the real reason for her coming.

"You promised me back in the city that when we returned, you'd let Dr. Kadowaki take a look at you," she reminded him. "About these fainting spells you've been having, remember?"

"That… might not be such a bad idea," he quickly conceded with far less resistance than Quistis had expected.

"Glad you agree," she smiled contentedly. "Then let's get moving. And then maybe afterwards we can have a nice chat over some tea in the cafeteria."

"One thing at a time," he muttered, ducking back inside the room momentarily to retrieve his shoes and gunblade.

Though the uprising against the headmaster appeared to have subsided in the aftermath of their takeoff, there was no guarantee that the academy had suddenly become free from danger once again overnight. So long as the culpable party in question, the Thorns still remained among them, traversing the Garden unarmed was a risk Quistis was not yet prepared to take. The coiled metal whip set at her left alongside her Guardian Force sphere was proof enough. His outfitting complete, Squall at last exited his dorm room, locking the door behind him, and the two proceeded down the hall in the direction of the main atrium.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Rinoa went off to, do you?" Quistis asked as they navigated their way back to the central stretch. "I went back to the infirmary last night to check up on her and the headmaster, but they were both gone."

"You're asking the wrong person," Squall told her, keeping his eyes trained forward as they rounded the bend and continued forward toward the dormitory exit. "There's no use worrying about it. I'm sure the headmaster's set her up with a guest room."

"Funny… and here I was starting to think you were actually concerned for _her_ safety too."

"Haven't we already been over this? I told you, it's only because she was my-"

He abruptly cut himself off and halted in his tracks just as they came to the atrium's portal. Quistis turned her own attention forward once again, and likewise felt her breath catch in her throat. A pair of robed Thorns stood to either side of the corridor's end, having stepped away from the walls at their approach to impede the path forward into the ruined nexus of the Garden.

"Operative No. 41269, Squall Leonhart," the one on the left read from a small electronic tablet held in his hands. "Operative No. 39425, Quistis Trepe. Is that correct?"

"It is," she cautiously responded, the fingers of her hand itching to wrest hold of the whip at her side for self-defense.

"And there are two more listed as having been dispatched to Timber alongside Leonhart, operatives Dincht and Tilmitt. Where are they now?"

"Back in Galbadia," Squall obediently provided him the answer. "Currently MIA. What's the meaning of this?"

"The Garden Master has requested your presence in his chambers immediately," the Thorn spoke with authority. "Please follow me at once."

"And if we refuse?" Quistis intensely rebutted him. "And just who is this 'Garden Master' we keep hearing about? Headmaster Cid is the only authority we answer to!"

"How naive we are," he menaced forebodingly. "Your beloved headmaster has retained command of this Garden for the past twelve years only because the Garden Master has allowed him to do so. As of yesterday, that privilege has been revoked. You will comply, or face the consequences. Now, follow!"

The Thorn agitatedly spun around and started into the atrium, as his comrade stepped aside to allow the two SeeDs passage. Quistis turned her head to Squall, sharing a mutual glance of confusion and apprehension before proceeding forward to face their summons. The second Thorn relieved himself from the wall as they bypassed him, bringing up the rear as they continued straight ahead to climb the steps to the ring of shattered glass elevators. Students swarmed across the entire expanse of the inner and outer walkways, still in the process of erecting all manner of scaffolding by which to begin conducting repairs. Their guide weaved and maneuvered through the milling crowd of newly conscripted maintenance workers, leading the pair around the full diameter of the inner platform to the southern elevator.

"So," Squall lightly muttered to her as the Thorn pressed the button to part the doors. "Even you don't know anything about this so-called 'Garden Master'?"

"Nothing," Quistis admitted, feeling every bit as perturbed by the recent developments. "I've never heard about anyone with higher authority than the headmaster. This is all so surreal."

When placed in contention with the Garden's newfound mobile capabilities, the notion was significantly easier to believe, though no less surprising. By the way she had spoken the previous night, it seemed Xu had been one of the select few in the know, and perhaps even the only member of SeeD privy to such confidential matters. Such a closely guarded secret had certainly never been disclosed to Quistis at any point following her induction one year ago. And yet as the capsule door hissed shut and the Thorn swiped his keycard across the reader and pressed the down arrow, a sinking feeling in her gut told her she already knew their destination.

Moments later, the sensation manifested in reality as the lift began to descend, just as she and Squall had the night before to the run-down lower levels of the former shelter. Seconds passed in silence, the air thick with tension and the stench of corrosion in equal measures, with only the light set into the elevator ceiling to guide them. It soon slowed, coming to a halt at precisely the juncture Quistis had anticipated; the muraled black and gold-tinged metal doors they had noticed the first time rested beyond the capsule's own sealed doors. Both parted with the lift's chime, opening into a spacious open chamber shrouded in dim, murky lighting, a lengthy red carpet extending forward their only guide.

Quistis' breath caught in her throat as her eyes rapidly adjusted, taking note of the congregation of yellow headpieces which vibrantly popped out from the gloom in the elevator's light. By her own estimation, no less than twenty robed Thorns stood on either side of the dividing streak of fabric, by far the largest number she had ever seen assembled in a single place. It would not have been unreasonable to assume that every member of the exclusive sect was present for whatever meeting was about to take place.

"Go," ordered the robed escort to their rear, shoving Quistis on her back to propel her forward and out of the lift. She begrudgingly obeyed, making her way alongside Squall down the carpet and into the midst of the gathered ministry. At their approach, yet another pair abruptly split off from the ranks, making haste for them as the second of their initial captors continued further across the massive hall.

"Your weapons," the one nearest Quistis spoke coldly, outstretching his arms in a receiving gesture as the second made the same motion to Squall by her side. Understanding the gravity of their present predicament, so vastly outnumbered on all sides as they were, she hesitantly unfastened the coiled whip and GF sphere fixed to her belt and relinquished them as commanded. The Thorn took hold of her affects and abruptly turned away, just as she glimpsed the other make his way back to his own position with Squall's gunblade in hand.

With yet another forceful shove forward from behind, she abruptly re-oriented her footing and continued down the length of the red carpeting, taking note of the imposing mechanical effigy it ominously paved the way towards. Its rounded curvature bulged outward from the wall, appearing to resemble a massive cocoon decorated with the same gold gilded patterns as those etched on the elevator doors. Two faintly pulsating blue orbs sat fixed into either side of the synthetic pod, resembling a pair of gigantic gleaming eyes unflinchingly staring into her very soul. Their ordained march finally came to a halt at the rear of the lead Thorn, standing in what appeared to be reverence before its cold, lifeless architecture.

"Master!" the robed man beseeched the idol, raising his arms in praise. "We present to you the only confirmed surviving SeeDs to have taken part in the assassination attempt!"

A loud mechanized hiss followed the next moment as billowing steam seeped loose from beneath the pod's frontal plating. With a groan and subsequent whir of machinery, the metal cocoon's exterior began to automatically lift upward, allowing a bright fluorescent light from within to sweep across the chamber floor as it raised itself higher toward the ceiling. All around, the gathered congregation of Thorns fell to one knee in unison, their heads bowed in respect for their eminent leader. Quistis shielded her vision against the sudden burst of luminescence, squinting hard through the gaps in her fingers to deduce exactly who or what resided inside. The shadowy visage of a wide, rotund figure slowly came into focus against the pod's interior lighting, becoming ever more pronounced as her eyes gradually adjusted. At last, the sudden brightness dimmed to a manageable level of visibility, leaving her face to face with the enigmatic Garden Master who had summoned them.

Her mouth abruptly fell open and hung agape in revulsion at the sight of the humanoid creature seated within. True to Xu's scathing threat to the Thorns the previous night, a toad was unquestionably the closest likeness to the Garden Master's own physical appearance. His sickly pale-yellow skin and deformed cranial structure notwithstanding, it was the unnaturally bulbous proportions of his chin, appearing akin to a massive dangling uvula extending all the way down to his upper chest which she found the most grotesque. Obese and positively bulging from his black, gold and grey ceremonial robes as he was, his hands were unbelievably bigger still. His palms alone were at least the size of his own head, while the thick tendril-like fingers which sprouted from them far exceeded the boundaries of standard human anatomy. Indeed, he was evidently not of the human species, his sheer size being the only variable which momentarily kept Quistis from being able to properly identify him.

 _Is he… a Shumi?_

Although she had never before encountered a member of the northern indigenous Shumi people in the flesh, the Garden Master's physiological makeup appeared to match her former biology studies to a tee. From the unnatural yellow skin tone, to the oversized hands and generally stout height, it was only the sheer amount of body fat which had kept her from coming to the conclusion immediately. Theirs was said to be a humble, hardworking and peaceful civilization, residing in isolation in the northernmost climes of Trabia, far from the prying eyes of humanity. For one to have strayed so far from their homeland, and much less to have established himself as such a ruthless and domineering force within the Garden was as far from the norm as she could imagine.

"You stand before Garden Master Norg," the lead Thorn announced, turning back to face the two of them. "Proprietor of Balamb Garden, and the true supreme authority of SeeD."

Quistis briefly glanced sideways to Squall, noting his own expression appeared every bit as stunned by the Shumi's appearance as her own. Her attention was swiftly drawn back to the portly creature as an unintelligible guttural utterance escaped the Garden Master's gullet, sounding halfway between a groan and a gurgle, and his beady black eyes washed over them in deliberation.

"Which of you is the leader?" he inquired, the booming bass timbre of his voice reverberating through the chamber. With a quick breath in through her mouth to calm herself, Quistis took the initiative with two short steps forward. Although Squall had been the appointed squad leader in actuality, it was obvious such negotiations would require a far more delicate and experienced touch.

"I was the highest ranking member of the team," she claimed, taking charge just as she had when they had initially received the assassination orders from Headmaster Martine. "Operative No. 39425, Quistis Tr-"

"I do not _care_ who you are!" Norg furiously bellowed. "If you are the leader, then give me your report on the sorceress!"

Quistis reeled in shock at the menacing demand, spinning her head back to Squall standing still as a statue to her rear. The mass congregation of Thorns had yet to rise from their knees, none appearing visibly perturbed by the sudden outburst.

"Answer him, quickly!" the Thorn standing before Norg supplied his own order. "And be concise!"

 _It's going to be a sad report…_

"We failed in our mission to assassinate Sorceress Edea," she began out of obligation, anxiously racking her mind for the right words to explain. "Confirmation of the orders was made at Galbadia Garden, following the Timber team's evacuation from the city. Per the request from the Balamb and Galbadia administrations, we were supplied with a sniper and sent on our way to-"

"Balamb _and_ Galbadia's request!?" the Garden Master roared again, followed by yet another series of guttural noises. Enraged beyond the point of maintaining his composure, he forcefully slammed one of his massive balled fists against the interior walls of his pod control center.

"Damn you, Martine! I swear I'll wring the life from you yet!"

"I… I don't understand," Quistis stammered, truly lost as to what she had said to anger him.

"You were fooled!" Norg angrily chastised her. "Those orders were were never intended to be carried out by SeeD! They were explicitly drafted up to be executed by Galbadia Garden operatives. But that sly weasel Martine used _you_ to make sure he could get away scot-free if the operation failed, and place all of the blame on _me_!"

"What!?" she reeled in astonishment, shaken to the core by the sudden revelation. "That… that can't be right!"

Quistis frantically cast her memory back to the evening she had received the confidential file from Martine in his office. She recalled having flipped open the portfolio's first page to find such a massive portion of the contents had been redacted, as well as the peculiarity of Squall's own squad having been assigned to such a mission when they had yet to complete their previous one. Slowly but surely, the pieces began to click together in her mind, leaving her dumbfounded at the prospect that someone she had come to respect so greatly over the years could have so callously manipulated her.

"I have known of the alliance between the sorceress and Galbadia for some time now," Norg elucidated. "Martine has served me for more than a decade as my eyes and ears in the government's internal affairs. It was through him that I came to know of her secret dealings with Deling from the very start, one month ago, and understood the threat she would pose to this Garden if she were to gain control of the entire Galbadian military. I had begun plotting this assassination even before the Dollet siege, only to be fought tooth and nail at every turn by that spineless coward, Cid!"

She continued to listen on in stark silence, rendered completely mum by the machinations which had progressed for so long unbeknownst to her.

"It was eventually decided that we would directly commission the operation from Galbadia Garden. We even went so far as to have the details of the assignment hand-delivered to Martine in writing, to ensure the data couldn't potentially be intercepted with a digital transmission. I took each and every precaution to ensure there was nothing which could be traced back to this Garden. He was to assign a team of top level cadets hand-picked by myself… with the exception of the sniper, whom I allowed Cid to choose in exchange for his cooperation on the matter. He practically begged me for it, saying if I was going to be the one giving the order to execute his wife, then it was only fair that _he_ should be the one to decide who pulls the trigger."

In that moment, Quistis stopped breathing. Her eyes went wide with shock like never before, her mind confused and befuddled beyond all measure. Time seemed to grind to a halt as the world as she knew it stopped spinning, if only for a second. There was simply no more unbelievable revelation she had ever been privy to in all her life. That it had come to her so abruptly in the form of such a casual, passing mention was almost too much.

 _The headmaster and the sorceress… are married!?_

"I am anything but unreasonable, after all," Norg continued, unabated. "And even _that_ cadet ended up being at the top of his class. But it no longer matters. Your team just happened to show up right before the mission was to be carried out, and that bastard Martine decided to use you instead! He stabbed me in the back, and then went completely off the grid the moment things fell apart! Not even the decency to send me a warning about that missile strike that nearly killed us all!"

 _You're welcome…_

"Something must be done at once to calm the sorceress' anger. I had planned to offer Cid's head as a show of goodwill, only for the SeeDs to side with him! How dare they defy me!? It was _I_ who put up the money to establish this institution twelve years ago! This is _my_ Garden!"

"No!" Quistis finally blurted out, unable to contain herself any longer. "It's not just _your_ Garden!"

"Then whose is it?" Norg arrogantly scoffed. "Is it Cid and Edea's!? That pathetic married couple's!? I think not! And if I cannot appease that witch with the head of her estranged husband, then I'm sure I can offer her the next best thing: the heads of the same SeeDs who unsuccessfully tried to kill her. Take them away!"

She spun around at once to see the gathered Thorns to their rear rise from their knees, pulling freshly sharpened knives from their robes as they slowly closed in. Her eyes darted back and forth across the expanse as she fell into a fighting stance, mulling over her options at light-speed. With her whip and Guardian Force having been confiscated, she and Squall would be forced to rely upon hand-to-hand combat to fend off the incoming onslaught of cultists. Although her years worth of physical training had included the basics of martial arts, an attack on all sides from more than twenty armed assailants seemed an almost hopeless disadvantage to overcome. Strangely however, despite the encroaching threat to his back, Squall remained standing perfectly still by her side, his eyes unmoving from the belligerent Garden Master.

"You're making a big mistake," the young man in black finally spoke, showing not a hint of intimidation. "Your plan is only a temporary fix. Even if you do offer us up to Edea, her ultimate goal is to wipe every last trace of SeeD off the face of the planet. She'll eventually come for you again, with the strength of even more conquered nations at her disposal. You won't stand a chance."

"Hold your tongue, you sniveling little worm," Norg snorted derisively. "Your sacrifice now will buy me all the time I'll need to determine a new insurance policy against her in the future."

"And what if I could offer you one right now?"

The robed mob scarcely three feet to his rear suddenly halted in their approach, seemingly caught off guard by the unexpected proposition. Quistis turned her attention back to Squall's face, and suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. His blue eyes, normally so distant and lost in thought, now stared menacingly ahead toward the wicked Shumi. His lips meanwhile had curled ever so slightly into an unsettling, knowing smirk, the likes of which she had never before seen him wear.

"I'm listening," Norg yielded the floor, pensively tapping one of his mammoth index fingers against the side of the pod in awaiting.

"It's very simple," Squall continued, the conniving tone his voice had suddenly taken on doing nothing to assuage the unnerved feeling it brought to Quistis. "The Galbadian military may be under her command in name, but there are still plenty of those in the ranks who can _'_ t be pleased with her seizing control by force. You know this as well as I do… maybe even more so."

"I _do_ ," the Garden Master insisted. "Come to the point quickly, before I lose my patience!"

"The point is, it's an unstable situation no matter which way you look at it. So, it would follow that if you could sow even further discord between the head of the army and the sorceress while things are still in the middle of this state of transition, it would likely lead to an internal civil conflict, just like the one you've already tried to start within this Garden. All you need is the right leverage."

"And what kind of leverage might _that_ be?" Norg mused, his curiosity apparently piqued.

"The kind that would exacerbate a conflict of interest between the sorceress and the army, and potentially serve to turn them against one another," Squall explained dryly. "What you need is a high priority hostage. Someone with a connection to a very high ranking official in the Galbadian military… say, a _familial_ connection."

"You wouldn't _dare!_ "

Quistis' sudden shriek ripped through the chamber sending the Thorns reeling backward in surprise at the sheer volume. Emotionally distraught as she already was by having learned of Martine's betrayal, and the truth of Cid and Edea's relationship, the implication in Squall's words had been enough to completely shatter any sense of stability she had left. That he would even consider something so unthinkable, disgusting, and utterly reprehensible was truly beyond the pale, leaving her speechless as she stared him down in disbelief. A raucous fit of laughter escaped Norg's throat the next second, chasing away the last remnants of her scream.

"And am I to assume you _know_ someone who fits that description?" he chuckled maniacally.

"She's in this Garden right now," Squall confirmed, paying her outburst no mind whatsoever as he continued to stare straight ahead. "Swear that you'll let us walk free, and I'll have her brought down to you right away."

" _No!_ " Quistis declared on the spot, stepping directly into his face. "What is _wrong_ with you!? I am _not_ going to just stand here and let you use her as a bargaining chip to save your own life!"

"It's the only way," he dispassionately told her as he stared straight into her eyes. "It's just like I told you that night: 'Everyone has to take care of themselves'."

As she maintained eye contact with him, seeing both of his having returned to the distant emptiness she knew all too well, she could feel the tears begin welling up in her own, just as they had on the ballroom balcony a lifetime ago. No matter how deeply it had hurt her to come to terms with, she had genuinely started to believe that Rinoa had truly meant something to him. Despite her own personal grievances with the girl's stubborn demeanor and animosity toward any kind of authority, she could never have found the spite within to condemn her to such a cruel fate. That Squall could do so now, to the same girl he had sworn to protect for the sake of his own self-preservation was entirely immoral. It was a sign that she no longer knew her former student at all, or perhaps never had.

"You… you're no better than Seifer," she sobbed, feeling her mind slowly start to break down as the tears began to spill down her face. "You're a _monster!_ "

"Just _my kind_ of monster," Norg chortled with delight to her back. "And a shrewd businessman at that. Consider it a deal. You have one hour to find this 'high priority hostage', and bring her to me. Your comrade stays here as collateral. If you're not back here within that time, we slit her throat. You two! Escort him back upstairs, and stay with him at all times. If he tries anything suspicious, kill him where he stands!"

Quistis could scarcely stomach to look at Squall as he performed the SeeD salute to the vile creature and began back down the red carpet to the elevator, followed closely behind by two Thorns. She fell to her knees in heartbreak the next moment, unable to cease her bawling as her emotions broke loose and plunged her into the depths of despair.

 _Where did I go so wrong?_


	30. Chapter 8 - Legacy of Betrayal

8

 **CHAPTER 8 – LEGACY OF BETRAYAL**

The omnipresent murmuring about the cafeteria had died down considerably since the morning breakfast rush. Now approaching midday, most tables and chairs dotting the sprawling expanse were left vacant, as the students had one-by-one taken their leave to assist with the ongoing repairs. Only a few small congregations of cadets lingered behind to chat with one another in their respective groups, leaving Rinoa to pore over her newly acquired reading material in peace. She glanced up from the book's pages, drained the remaining dregs of her now lukewarm cup of coffee, and shifted her gaze to look out the large bay window she sat beside. Where once there would have surely been a gorgeous view of the Garden's outer grounds, the sloshing waves of the ocean now stretched onward to the horizon with seemingly no end. No matter how many times her eyes took in the sight, it remained no less unbelievable.

The previous night's events had been nothing short of nerve-wracking; Rinoa had reluctantly obeyed Squall's command to remain holed up in the infirmary's operating room with the headmaster. With little else to occupy her time as she patiently awaited either their coming salvation or destruction, she had taken to chatting with Cid with regard to the circumstances of the bizarre uprising, and her own desire to nullify their contract. The kindly old man had remained mum on the former subject, citing only an insurmountable conflict of interest between himself and the Garden's proprietor, the enigmatic Garden Master to whom the robed Thorns swore their allegiance. With regard to her own personal request, he told her he would be more than happy to oblige at the earliest convenience, provided they survived both the ongoing battle and the prospective missile strike.

Before long, the earthshaking detonations had violently rocked the entire academy. They had both been toppled to the floor by the sheer force of the blast, Rinoa having huddled herself into a ball as she expected the ceiling to come crumbling down on top of her at any moment. After roughly a minute of dread anticipation had passed, the commandant's announcement had come over the loudspeaker system, informing them of an impending collision into the sea. At a complete loss for context, she had braced herself again for yet another tremor, and following the eventual crash, risen to help the headmaster to his feet. With the ceasefire called, they had proceeded out of the infirmary, maneuvered themselves through the chaos in the atrium, and taken the first available elevator up to the headmaster's office.

There they had discovered the looming metal pillar erected through the floor, leading up to the control center for the newly mobile Garden. Xu had been nowhere in sight, nor Squall and Quistis, leaving them alone to marvel at the open sea before them. Cid had been utterly dumbfounded by the true nature of the ancient technology buried deep in the academy's recesses. After a moment of awestruck silence, he had ducked into his adjacent private quarters and returned with a guest keycard for Rinoa. As opposed to the guest room on the sixteenth floor he had provided her on the night of the inauguration ball, the card in question was designated for the standard dormitories. He had explained that with the living quarters for the Thorns being situated on the upper floors as well, she would be safer on the ground level. She had accepted the thin plastic laminate and taken her leave, just as the commandant returned with a small contingent of SeeD technicians in tow.

The accommodations had been satisfactory enough; after such a tiring day, the comfort of a mattress and pillow of any sort was a heavenly reprieve. Her sleep had been adequate, though her restless state of mind had woken her several times throughout the night. Eventually she had seen fit to rise at just after eight-o'-clock, and proceeded to the cafeteria for breakfast. She had circled about the atrium afterward, doing her best to steer clear of the repair efforts, and made her way to the nearly empty library wing. There she had scanned over the various assorted volumes in the mythology section, finally selecting one from the shelf, entitled _The Whereabouts of Hyne._

According to the insert summary, the work was a fully translated thesis, originally authored by a historical scholar named Temu nearly five-hundred years before. Its pages contained a comprehensive account of the sorceress legends through the ages, and their alleged connection to that of the mythical deity, Hyne. It was hardly light reading, though nothing beyond Rinoa's ability to properly comprehend; the variety of texts her father had often compelled her to study in her youth had provided her a strong literary foundation. She had begun poring over its contents at one of the many vacant reading desks, before the exhaustion of the previous day reared its head once more. Feeling in need of a caffeinated stimulus to keep herself awake, she checked the book out from the front desk, the cadet girl with a single pigtail not even bothering to ask for her identification in light of the circumstances, and returned to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.

She had sat by the window for longer than an hour, engrossed in the scholarly writing from ages gone by. Rinoa knew if she were to contribute to their struggle against Edea in any meaningful way, it would do her much good to familiarize herself with what little information existed pertaining to the sorceress' power. Although treated purely as folklore in print, her own first-hand experiences had inclined her to give a closer examination to such fairy tales.

The origin of the sorceresses, or witches as they were more commonly called by people of the time, was contested to have been alluded to in the age-old legend of the Great Hyne, fabled creator of all mankind. It was written that with the formation of the planet from the celestial ether, so too had the first form of savage life sprung from the primordial sea. And so, the mighty deity set about cleansing the world of the ravenous beasts with his all-powerful magic, declaring himself its governor and building a himself a throne upon which to oversee all. Yet there stood a mountain impeding his view of the eastern sea, for which he had grown too tired from his relentless battles to destroy. With what remaining magic he could muster in his weary state, he forged for himself a set of living tools to tend the land in his stead, and put them to work on chiseling away the mountain. Such was the alleged origin of the human race.

When the obstruction had been cleared, the people asked for Hyne's guidance, only to learn that he had fallen into a deep sleep brought on by his fatigue. With no understanding of how to awaken him, they set about molding the land to suit their own needs, multiplying in number over the ages and spreading far and wide. When at last Hyne woke from his slumber, he was startled by the changes that had been made to the world, and the amount of human beings which now inhabited it. He sought to reduce their number by using his magic to immolate the newborn children, enraging the people and instigating a rebellion against their creator. Despite his almighty power, the humans had grown too numerous to quell altogether, and would not cease in their crusade against him. Thus, Hyne broached a truce with his creations: he would give unto them half of his own body and power as a peace offering.

The humans agreed, and received the half of the god's body for themselves as promised. However, it was not long before the people began to quarrel as to who among them deserved to partake of Hyne's magic. Disparate clans were formed among them, establishing as many divided nations across the land. A long, bloody war began, with the eventual victors being the clan of the 'dark king' Zebalga. With the half of Hyne's body within their possession, the king and his most loyal subjects convened to command the power it held. And yet, no matter the means they employed, it would not obey their commands. With no other options left to him, Zebalga summoned the wise Sage Vascaroon to offer his consultation. He determined that the supposed 'half of Hyne's body' was in actuality his corrupted, cast off skin, which contained no magical power about it. The whole of humanity had been deceived by the god, and turned against one another as punishment for defiance of his own will. Enraged, the Zebalga clan vowed to hunt down and destroy the lingering magic of Hyne, wherever he may have hid himself away.

It was undoubtedly a story far more steeped in allegorical significance than historical, and likely even an amalgamation of various stories which originated around the same time. Its connection to the later legends of the sorceresses was stipulated to be the 'magic of Hyne' from which his 'cast off skin' had been shed. It eventually came to be believed that Hyne had concealed his power within the bodies of chosen women, those who it was traditionally believed were in need of protection. Over the course of thousands of years, such rumors began to spread far and wide, culminating in fully fledged 'witch hunts' at the merest mention of any female who was claimed to have displayed unnatural abilities. Innumerable executions of accused women had been carried out for generations prior to Temu's writing, for fear that such legends might hold credence.

The earliest surviving written account of a sorceress dated back to the reign of King Odin in ancient Centra, more than one-thousand years before present day. A woman alleged by the common folk to be in possession of magical powers was summoned before the king, himself said to be a descendant of the legendary King Zebalga. He decreed that the woman be put to death for her deceit and treachery, to which she pleaded with him for an accord. She offered him a proposition: in exchange for her life, she would utilize her spellcraft to enchant the king's prized scimitar, Zantetsuken, granting it the power to effortlessly slice through any and all earthly matter with ease. Intrigued by the offer, Odin acceded. At her command, the sword at once became a divine instrument, capable of rending apart anything in existence, just as she had promised.

In return for such a majestic gift, Odin stood by his word, even going so far as to appoint the sorceress to his grand council alongside his most trusted advisers. For a while, the king continued his reign unabated, upholding the order of his kingdom and dispensing judgment upon wrongdoers as was his sworn duty. Yet as time went on, his health gradually began to worsen, subtly at first, but before long progressing to the point that he could scarcely leave his palace. No matter the healing he sought from his newly appointed aide, nothing seemed to avail him of his inexplicable condition. Unbeknownst to all, the sorceress' enchantment had been a curse; Zantetsuken's newfound power to cleave any earthly matter in two came at the cost of the life force absorbed from its wielder with each slice. As he continued to indiscriminately make use of the power bestowed to him, King Odin was slowly dying.

One night, no longer possessing the strength to rise from his throne, he called forth his council for an urgent meeting to determine the future of the kingdom after his passing. Seizing the moment she had long awaited, the sorceress wrested the king's sword from his feeble grasp, breaking the curse which had stolen away his vitality, and cleaved him from head to toe in a single swing. The power of her own magic combined with that of the accumulated life force contained within the blade had torn through more than merely Odin's body and throne; a gaping rift in the very fabric of the world had been opened by the tremendous slash. A mysterious pale-skinned swordsman outfitted in tattered red rags stepped forth from its maw, and engaged in battle against the traitorous sorceress before the gathered council of advisers. The strange warrior from dimensions beyond had countered the woman's magical assault with spellcraft of his own, and soon overwhelmed her.

Her body was mercilessly carved apart by the dual blades he wielded, and yet she somehow still clung to life even through the excruciating pain of dismemberment. At that moment, she revealed to those present the terrible destiny that all of her kind had been condemned to: until her holy gift could be passed on to a suitable successor, the power a sorceress held would leave her unable to rest in peace, no matter the amount of injury sustained. Fearful of subjecting one of the kingdom's young girls to such a fate, several members of the council, with the assistance of their enigmatic savior, escorted the captive mutilated sorceress out of the city under cover of night. They made haste for the coast, where she was given a live water burial, her still-breathing remains sunk to the bottom of the ocean. As repayment for his service to the kingdom, the swordsman took up Zantetsuken as his own and disappeared into legend, never to be seen again.

Although Odin's name was indeed listed in the ancient Centran historical record of kings, the veracity of the tale held little credence besides. Even at only five-hundred years removed from Temu's chronicle, the scholar claimed there existed no supporting physical evidence to give it plausibility. It was more likely some form of natural illness which had stolen away the king's vitality, with the legend propagated by his loyal aides in the aftermath as a means to deify their ruler, and ensure his legacy would live on. Like that of Hyne, Rinoa was not sure what to think of the story; such folktales were far from the sort of reading material her father had foisted upon her from a young age. What information she had studied regarding sorceresses was much too recent to be recorded in such old texts, but no less puzzling.

The so-called 'Sorceress War' of the modern era had erupted twenty-one years before, with the ascent of the ruthless Sorceress Adel. Having been raised as the daughter of a lower Estharian noble family, sheltered and largely kept from the spotlight of her nation's political landscape all her life, the specifics as to how, where, and when she had allegedly received her power remained shrouded in mystery. Whatever the circumstances, she had made use of it at the age of twenty-four to completely overthrow the previously-existing government in a single night, with a brutal mass slaughtering of the entire royal family at a celebratory gathering. With all opposition from within the nation disposed of, Adel declared herself empress, and set out on a bid for world domination.

In the west, Galbadian president Vinzer Deling had seized hold of the opportunity himself; with war a looming inevitability, he had used the threat of invasion to his advantage, prompting congress to appoint him an indefinite term extension. The conflict had lasted for nearly four years, culminating in an abrupt ceasefire on the eastern front. Without explanation, Esthar had suddenly withdrawn its troops, shuttered its borders, and severed all contact with the outside world until present day. Seventeen years had passed without a single attempt by the global superpower to recommence its conquest, leading most to presume Adel had met her end. Despite the prolonged cold war however, Deling's own desire to reign supreme over the scattered territories of the western continent had yet to be sated.

And so, Galbadia had continued to expand its reach ever further across the land over the coming years, only to be usurped by another sorceress in the span of a single night, just as before. A long legacy of betrayal, allegedly set in motion by Hyne with his first great deception of all mankind, had been carried on through the ages by the women said to bear his power. Rulers of renown, regardless of their individual character, had been served their reckoning at the hands of such witches. The understanding was enough to place a heavy weight upon Rinoa's heart; anyone so conniving and mighty as to single-handedly wrest power from an authority of such magnitude was a fearsome foe, indeed.

"Rinoa!"

Her eyes shot up from the book at the call of her name. She craned her neck to gaze across the cafeteria, and easily picked out the young man outfitted in black making his way toward her. The wide oval tear under his shoulder where the icicle had impaled him told her he had yet to change clothes since the previous day. With none other than her own blue duster sweater on hand, itself torn ragged by the claws of the lizard creatures, she was in no position to judge.

"Squall!" she rose to greet him, setting the book down on the table. "Are you alright? I can't believe you and Quistis actually-"

"I'm fine," he dismissively cut her off as he came to a stop in front of her. "I need you to come with me, right now."

"What for?" she questioned, put off by the serious tone in his voice; his steely eyes were not any more reassuring.

"Just come on," he urged. "It's important."

Rinoa hesitated, feeling unsettled by Squall's unusually terse demeanor. His refusal to tell her what was so pressing unnerved her, but the prior day's events inclined her to trust his judgment. She reluctantly nodded and swiveled her upper body back to reach for the book on the table, only to be forcibly pulled back into place. Her eyes widened as Squall's arms wrapped themselves around her, holding her close in a tight embrace. Instantly, her nervousness gave way to incredulity; it was not merely the sudden hug itself which startled her, but how completely out of character it was for the person giving it.

"S… Squall?" she eked out, frozen within his grasp as she deliberated whether or not to push him away.

"I'm sorry," he muttered into her ear, not letting go. "I wish you'd never gotten involved in everything… and that it didn't have to come to this."

Rinoa lingered in his embrace, confused beyond all measure, before she finally brought her own arms around his torso to reciprocate. They stood clinging to one another by the window for a time, until Squall finally released his hold and slowly backed away to give her space. She stared into his eyes, wondering all the while what could have possessed him to act in a way so unlike him. Finding no answers in his blank stare, she pivoted back around and wordlessly picked up the book from the table to stow it in her rear pouch. She took her drained cup of coffee in her other hand, pushed in her chair, and followed after Squall, making a brief detour along their route to throw the container in the trash. As they neared the exit leading back toward the atrium, her breath caught in her throat; a pair of robed faculty stood waiting for them directly ahead. She instinctively slowed to allow Squall to pass her by, and followed closely behind for the rest of the stretch.

"This is the one?" the first spoke to Squall. "Understand that if the Master deems this to be a waste of his time, the consequences will be severe."

"I'm sure he'll be more than satisfied," the black-clad youth replied stoically.

"Then so be it," the robed man cryptically warned, gesturing to his companion. "Relieve her of her effects."

"Squall?" Rinoa anxiously turned to her partner as the Thorn closed in to search her. "What's going on?"

"I told you, I'm sorry," he muttered whilst the man proceeded to pat her down from head to toe. "Just cooperate with them, and you'll be safe."

His words provided her no comfort as her storage pouch was forcibly removed from her rear. Satisfied, the lead Thorn turned around and started out into the connecting corridor, with Squall following after. A push from behind set Rinoa herself into motion, and she was escorted out of the cafeteria by the second Thorn to her back. A pit gathered in her stomach as she was marched along to the atrium, around the outer ring to the ruined directory, and up the central steps to the circle of glass elevators. The four piled into a single capsule, and as the door closed and the lift began to lower, she felt a very real fear take hold of her. She kept her eyes trained to Squall as they descended, silently praying that he would offer some kind of explanation of what was happening; he kept his own trained forward, and did not so much as glance back to her even once.

The lift slowed before a set of elegantly muraled doors, which opened with the elevator's familiar chime to reveal a wide chamber crowded with assembled Thorns. As Rinoa stepped out after Squall, she caught sight of Quistis' blonde head of hair further down the stretch of red carpet, surrounded on all sides by a small sub-set of the robed aides. Her attention was abruptly diverted yet again upon noticing the disgusting, bulbous yellow creature seated within a strange metal pod contraption on the opposite end of the room. The feeling of dread in her stomach became tinged with nausea as they approached it, coming to the sickening realization that it was likely the very Garden Master with whom Cid had become embroiled in the previous day's civil strife. She and Squall were led to stand beside Quistis at the fore of the chamber, the outfitted SeeD still remaining encircled by the ring of captors armed with knives. Rinoa met her glum stare, noticing her eyes were puffy and red.

"Quistis," she began in a shrill whisper. "What's happen-"

" _Silence!_ " the Thorn at the head of the red carpet spoke. "You shall speak only when Garden Master Norg addresses you!"

Rinoa clenched her jaw shut at the reprimand, turning her eyes upward to the hideous toad-like monstrosity that presided over all. The Garden Master's beady black eyes swept over her in turn, his flabby features contorted in deliberation. He brought a single massive finger of his right hand to rest just under his grotesque dangling chin, stroking it contemplatively as he studied her carefully. Seconds passed in uncomfortable silence, Rinoa not daring to break eye contact with the revolting creature for fear of inadvertently showing him disrespect. A guttural gurgling sounded from his throat the next moment, before he finally spoke in a remarkably deep and booming voice.

"Is this not the same girl who was standing beside Edea when she killed Deling on the broadcast?"

"I present to you, Rinoa Caraway," Squall introduced her as he stepped forward. "Daughter of General Caraway of the Galbadian army."

The Garden Master immediately burst into a heaving fit of boisterous laughter, prompting Rinoa to reel back as the reverberations bounced off the walls. It was nearly ten seconds before he managed to regain his composure, and redirected his focus to her.

" _Caraway's_ daughter?" he smiled sickly. "Is this true?"

She hesitated, unable to determine the exact context under which she had been asked the question, or whether Squall indeed intended for her to respond with the truth. She performed a sidelong glance toward him, hoping she would be able to discern some inkling of intent written on his face. There was none. She tilted her vision further toward Quistis, and saw only the same anxious stare peering through the mass of surrounding robes, darting back and forth between her, Squall, and the Garden Master.

"It… it is," she finally stammered, steeling herself for whatever would come next. It was yet another raucous fit of laughter which followed, the reason for it seemingly known to everyone present but her.

"I must say," Norg smiled, turning his attention back to Squall. "This might just be the greatest gift I've ever received. Consider your debt paid in full. As promised, you and your comrade are free to go."

"Our weapons?" Squall asked flatly, his gaze suddenly pivoting to a pair of Thorns standing off to the side. Following his line of sight, Rinoa saw the two held his gunblade and Quistis' whip within their clutches.

"I will see to it they are delivered to your quarters within the next few days. I'm a very cautious man, you understand?"

"I would expect nothing less," he acceded, and turned around to begin back to the elevator. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Let's go, Quistis."

"Squall!?" Rinoa called after him, finally allowing the panic to seep through into her voice. "What's happening!?"

She swiveled her vision all about, coming to the horrifying realization that the gathered congregation of Thorns had begun advancing toward her from all sides. She stood motionless in disbelief, as the understanding that she had been betrayed came crashing down on her. Squall stayed perfectly on course down the length of the red carpet, seemingly content to leave Rinoa to whatever fate had been decided for her. She frantically whipped her head to face Quistis, and quickly ducked backward as her arm came flying out in front of her.

"Rinoa!" she blurted out her name as she stepped forward to shield her. "I'm sorry… I know we've had our differences… and maybe I _was_ being too harsh on you before. I'm not asking you to forgive me… but I'm _not_ going to just stand here and let Squall do this to you!"

The Thorns, who had barely halted for a moment in the face of Quistis' declaration, continued their crawl forward, knives drawn and held at the ready. The Garden Master chuckled with mirth to the pair's back, himself obviously unfazed by the intervention. Though she could attest for the SeeD's unarmed combat prowess from her firsthand experience two days before, Rinoa doubted Quistis could possibly take on roughly two dozen armed assailants, while also providing protection for her. Without weapons, it seemed hopeless to repel them all. Worse still, Rinoa knew that if she had only had the foresight to keep Squall's GF sphere on her person, rather than tucked in her now confiscated storage pouch, then there would have been a chance, however slim, to defend herself. Quistis steadied her footing, ready to pounce at the first sign of a lunging strike.

Suddenly, a shimmering purple energy barrier inexplicably erected itself between the two parties. The Thorns stumbled to a halt in surprise, just as Rinoa's eyes widened in alarm. Quistis herself appeared to momentarily fall out of her fighting stance, caught off guard by the protective shield's materialization. The energy sparkled and faded into infrared, leaving her eyes to take notice of a fierce blaze coming into focus from the direction of the elevator. Rinoa squinted through the encroaching mob toward the light, continuing to intensify in brightness and volume by the second. Instantly, she realized the true motivation behind the prolonged hug Squall had given her. And then the fireball was unleashed, careening toward her down the red carpet at breakneck speed.

Rinoa instinctively flinched as the blast impacted on the shielding, shimmering into visibility once more to protect them. The blaze reflected off the magical barrier and diffused in a semi-circular wave of searing flames, washing over the surrounding Thorns and setting their robes alight. The anguished cries of more than twenty men ripped through the chamber. Those not instantly charred on the spot due to their close proximity were sent scrambling, falling to the ground and rolling about desperately to put out the flames. Rinoa looked on in awe, paying little heed to the Garden Master's enraged bellowing to her rear, before Quistis finally wrested hold of her hand and hurriedly escorted her off to the side. Squall charged back into the ensuing wildfire, sidestepping and shoving aside the flailing human pyres en route to the one who held his gunblade.

"As soon as the coast's clear, I want you to make a break for the elevator!" Quistis hysterically instructed her. "Do you understand? Let us handle this."

Rinoa nodded out of obligation, and watched as she spun around and made her own mad dash back into the fray. Squall had retrieved his sword in the interim, and begun setting to work on what Thorns still rose to meet him. One after another fell to his blade, their smoking remains crumpling to the floor in quick succession. Within a span of ten seconds, Quistis had retrieved her metal whip and joined the ensuing battle, by which point a mere four opponents were left standing. After as many more vicious slices and lashes from the two SeeDs, the confrontation drew to a close as quickly as it had begun. Flames billowed from the many incinerated corpses dotting the hall. The robes of those not still burning were scorched and blackened to a crisp, with many giving way to bloody sword wounds torn through the fabric. Norg remained stationary in his pod, his gaping maw hanging open in horror as he looked on at the utter annihilation of his loyal minions.

"Your days of running this Garden are over!" Squall roared as he strode forward to face the Garden Master and hoisted his gunblade up accusingly. "You have nowhere to run! Now, accept your defeat, and we'll let you go the moment we hit land!"

Rinoa breathlessly watched the scene unfold from the sidelines, knowing she stood in the midst of history in the making. For the second time in the span of three days, the supreme authority of one of the world's mightiest military forces had been forcibly ousted in yet another conniving act of betrayal. It had not come at the hands of a sorceress, but a soldier with seemingly every ounce of wit and subterfuge about him. Norg elicited another guttural gurgle, this time clearly born out of seething rage.

" _You!_ " he bellowed spitefully. "You must think you're such a crafty little miscreant, don't you!? You think you can just steal my life's work away from me like this!? This is _my_ Garden! Its history begins and ends with _me!_ "

He withdrew one of his massive hands into the pod's interior, raising it back up a moment later with a vastly smaller orb clutched between his finger and thumb.

"Did you really think I would approve the entire student body to receive training with those spheres, and not keep one for myself!?" he smugly boasted, as the raised protective frontal plating of the pod slowly began to lower with a mechanical whir. "And what a shame that unlike my kind, you human scum can't breathe underwater! I'll sink this Garden to the bottom of the ocean and start anew!"

A shimmering aura of deep blue light suddenly burst into prominence around the Garden Master within the shuttering pod, until it flew from his grasp to land directly in front of the wide-eyed Squall. He backpedaled away from the luminescence as it rapidly began to expand in size with each second. Once he had placed enough distance between himself and the expelled energy, he sheathed his sword, raised his own hand before him, and shut his eyes in concentration. A fiery red glow quickly engulfed him from head to toe, just as when Rinoa had witnessed a brilliant white come over Selphie aboard the train when she had summoned the pale-green rabbit creature. The flames leapt from his hand, coming to a stop before Norg's own fast materializing monster, which now threatened to reach the ceiling. The fire twirled and danced in the midst of the already ablaze chamber, giving way to an impressively tall humanoid figure.

A pair of blinding flashes prompted Rinoa to shield her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw the ravaged battleground had come to be dominated by two hulking monsters the likes of which she had never seen. To Squall's side, a muscular horned demon akin to a bipedal lion stood at the ready, its crimson mane brilliant in the light of the flames. Before Norg's now sealed pod, a towering blue sea serpent had arisen from the ether. Its wide maw and flared snout resembled those of a dragon, to speak nothing of the pair of jagged wing-shaped fins adorning either side of its lengthy body. In terms of size, it was roughly three times that of Squall's demon, putting it somewhere in the range of thirty feet from its head to its coiled tail by Rinoa's estimation.

Unfazed, the horned beast lowered itself to all fours and took off at breakneck speed, snarling viciously as it made its charge. It leapt high into the air to meet its foe, its razor-sharp claws digging into the scaly exterior with surprising ease. The leviathan screeched in defiance, beginning to thrash all about in an attempt to throw its savage attacker off. The demon held fast to its side, and proceeded to climb along despite the consistent turbulence. Rinoa watched the spectacle in awe from the side, her back pressed up against the wall for dear life. Her better judgment told her to obey Quistis' advice and make for the elevator; a combination of fear and astonishment kept her feet rooted to the spot, regardless.

The grip of the demon's claws eventually gave way, sending it tumbling from the serpent's body to land before its summoner. Squall remained frozen to the spot with his arm outstretched, his face a mask of tension as he fought to keep his familiar materialized. The beast rose to its hind feet with a roar, and began to gather searing balls of flame within both hands. The serpent reared its head back in response, and opened its gaping maw wide. What shot forth from its gullet the next moment was not another screech, but a torrential stream of water. The surge drenched the fire demon on the spot, extinguishing the flames within its claws and those still licking at the bodies of the immolated Thorns as the sloshing excess spread out across the room. It reached Rinoa's heeled boots within seconds, prompting her to instinctively step back through the flood despite having nowhere else to run.

As the flow of water from the leviathan's mouth ceased, a shimmer of dissipating light flashed at the spot where the demon had been standing. Squall had fallen to his knees, the concentration he required to sustain the summon broken by his own need to shield himself from the flood. He appeared very visibly exhausted, and certainly in no shape to face down the imposing monster before him. It screeched again, the piercing cry echoing through the wide flooded chamber, and prepared to swoop forward for the killing blow. Just then, another flash of light exploded into being, temporarily warding off the attack with its sheer brightness. Rinoa squinted her eyes through the glare, to see a slender feminine figure suddenly take shape beside the collapsed SeeD. The obfuscation swiftly cleared, revealing the identity of the newly arrived combatant.

The humanoid woman's bare skin was a striking pale-blue, offset only by a darker shade cascading in elegant patterns across her fully nude body, and a pair of yellow tendrils flowing down either side of her face. Jagged spokes protruded upward from her elbows and on either side of her hips. What accounted for her hairstyle was composed of three equally spaced drooping appendages framing the rear of her head, akin to flowing drapery. Quistis stood a ways behind her, with her own arms outstretched and eyes cast directly ahead, determined to succeed where Squall's familiar could not.

The blue woman arched her back as she raised her hands high to the ceiling, and within moments generated a gleaming sphere of energy within her grasp. The accumulated power whistled and squealed as it grew more potent at an exponential rate, becoming every bit as bright as the light which had heralded her arrival. Recognizing the danger, the serpent lunged forward to snap her up in its gaping jaws. She unleashed the power just as it reached her, the sphere diffusing into a mammoth blast which enveloped the creature's entire elongated body. It was forcibly halted in mid-strike, instantaneously frozen solid in a block of ice, as the water below was rendered into a thick sheet. Even distanced from the blast as she was, Rinoa could still feel the water around her own ankles turn deathly cold in its wake.

The ice apparition charged forward with frightening speed, smashing clear through the frozen leviathan in her path. She did not stop until she had bored directly through the massive block of ice, bursting at the seams and shattering into dozens of fragmented shards as she emerged on the other side. The shock-wave rocked the entire chamber, followed by yet another as she made contact with the face of the frozen-over pod which harbored the Garden Master. The metal facade, too, crumbled away into frigid debris, revealing the previously enraged Norg now quivering in abject terror. He would surely not require another explicit demand for him to accept his defeat. The battle had been decided.

"H-How?" he gasped in shock, as the dissected serpent's remains within the ice fragments shimmered and faded from reality with Quistis' ice familiar. "This can't be… this can't _be_!"

The stout yellow toad vigorously hoisted himself up from his pod, tumbling over onto the frozen stretch of lake with a hard thud. He righted himself with an agonized groan, and hysterically waddled his way into the water. Rinoa's heart caught in her throat as she realized he was heading directly for her.

"All my money," he wheezed as he stumbled along, evidently having grown too accustomed to his pod over the years. "More than a decade of my life… I won't let it all have been for nothing!"

By the plodding and sluggish pace at which he moved, she knew beyond any doubt she possessed the physical endurance to outrun him. As her eyes were drawn to the figure in black rapidly closing in on him from behind however, she understood there would be no need. A matter of seconds later, the blade was mercilessly thrust into his lower back, exiting through his gut with a spray of violet-tinged blood. He gagged and gurgled sickeningly, as yet more of the unnaturally colored vital liquid bubbled up from his mouth, trickling down over his elegant ceremonial robes. He fruitlessly groped for whatever he could grab hold of with his enormous hands, only to find every indulgence he had ever known had indeed slipped from him. With one last grim, bloodied gag, so too did his life.

Squall finally withdrew the gunblade from the Garden Master's back, allowing the corpse to topple over face-first into the shallow lake surrounding them. He stood in place over top the bloated creature, his eyes downcast as he watched the water immediately become stained with his blood. Rinoa cautiously approached, just as Quistis started over from the opposite side. She found herself naturally disturbed by the brutality Squall had wrought, yet thankful all the same that he had taken the initiative. Above all however, she was mostly relieved that he had not in fact brought her down to be taken away into captivity, and subjected to whatever vile fate she had been spared from.

"Rinoa!" called Quistis as she closed the gap to stand beside Squall. "Are you okay? I _told_ you to make for the elevator!"

"I… think I kind of got swept up in all the spectacle," she embarrassingly admitted. "But I'm fine. And about what you said before… I'm sorry, too. Thanks for saving me. Both of you."

"It's nothing," she insisted, her face suddenly turning serious as she directed her attention to Squall. "And I think _someone_ here owes _you_ an apology for having the nerve to bring you into this in the first place."

"I already did," Squall muttered, sounding akin to a misbehaving teenager being scolded by his mother.

"It's funny," Quistis remarked, not sounding humored in the slightest. "Before, with everything happening all at once, and all that information being thrown at us, I'd completely forgotten you'd given her your GF… you're a _very_ convincing actor, by the way."

"That night," Squall bluntly replied. "You did say I was an excellent student."

Rinoa abruptly turned her head away from the pair, knowing all too well what would be coming next. The loud smack of Quistis' hand across his face the next moment echoed through the flooded hall, almost causing her own cheek to flare up in pain as she recalled her own experience.

"Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again!" she fumed at him.

"It was the only plan I could come up with to get us out of that situation," he protested, rubbing his aching cheek. "I don't think you appreciate how hard I had to rack my brain for it."

"Even so, it's just so disgusting… that you could actually make me _believe_ that's the kind of person you really are!"

"Um, I'm still a little lost about all of this," Rinoa interjected, darting her eyes across the waters. "But you don't suppose we'll have any luck finding my pouch, do you?"

"Chances are it went up in flames with the fire blast," Squall told her as he soaked his gunblade to rinse off the blood and re-sheathed it. "You didn't have anything else important in there, did you?"

"No," she affirmed. "As long as I can get a spare room key from Cid."

 _I guess that's one book the library's not getting back…_

"Then, let's go see him," he announced, turning toward the elevator. "I've got a few questions I need to ask him, too."

" _We_ do," Quistis agreed, following in his very deliberate footsteps though the remains of the utterly destroyed hall.

Rinoa prepared to fall in line behind them, when her eyes landed on a faint glimmer in the water beside her, just barely visible through the purple hue surrounding Norg's body. She reached her hand down through the surface, clasped her fingers around the object, and raised it from the shallow depths for a closer inspection. The silver casing of the sphere remained ajar, allowing the deep blue coloring of the energy contained within to shine through the narrow open slit. With a quick press of the switches situated on the top and bottom, the halves automatically sealed, rendering the device inactive.

"Rinoa!"

She quickly palmed the sphere and turned her head in the direction of the call; Squall beckoned to her from the elevator as he held the door ajar. She feigned an embarrassed look as she placed both hands behind her back, carefully slipping the GF up her right blue arm warmer, and only then made haste to follow after.


	31. Chapter 9 - The One Who Binds the Two

9

 **CHAPTER 9 – THE ONE WHO BINDS THE TWO**

Squall released his hold on the door-open button as Rinoa maneuvered herself inside the capsule. His former employer took her place beside his former instructor, both of whom still appeared very visibly rattled by the events that had transpired in the Garden Master's private chambers. It had taken every ounce of his own fortitude to remain as calm as he had, and all of his wit to maintain the facade that had saved their lives. He swiped the keycard he had appropriated from one of the many slain Thorns across the elevator's built-in reader. As the indicator light flashed green, he quickly jabbed the button for the twentieth level. The doors slowly closed on the frigid, flooded hall, its waters littered with the remains of the former administrative body still clad in their ragged, scorched and bloodied robes. With one last glance through the shattered window paneling to Norg's bulging, sickly yellow corpse, the lift finally began to rise out of sight of the carnage.

He took no pride in having deceived his two comrades, nor having been forced to bring Rinoa into such a dangerous situation; by all accounts, he had fully deserved the smack across his cheek from Quistis. And yet, it had been the only possibility he could think of to free them from Norg's clutches, by exploiting the drought of information the strange creature had admitted to them. Squall understood from his own first-hand experience that there was virtually no chance General Caraway had been permitted to retain his position following Edea's takeover. His entire ploy had been contingent on the Garden Master's inability to know to what degree the Galbadian government's internal workings had changed since she had assumed power. That Rinoa had appeared beside Edea herself on the broadcast, hypnotized though she had been at the time, and still remained alive even after Deling's murder was all the proof required to paint the semblance of some sort of standing accord between the general and the sorceress. With the assistance of Quistis' predictably explosive reaction, Norg had taken the bait, allowing Squall to retrieve his Guardian Force sphere from Rinoa and ultimately turn the tables.

The sole complication in his plan's execution had been borne from his own underestimation of the Garden Master. He had not suspected him to have possessed his own sphere, much less that he had taken the time to properly train himself to summon and command the creature so effectively. It mattered little now that the vile toad had met his end upon Squall's blade, although he could by no means take all of the credit for himself. Once again, just as on the shores of Dollet, he owed his life to Quistis' intervention. And now, with the opportunity to properly contemplate the revelations they had become privy to, an urgent need to speak with the headmaster shot to the top of his list of priorities. Within less than thirty seconds, so too had the lift to the top of the Garden.

Squall stepped out into the circular antechamber, where the academy's numerous elevators situated around the central support structure reached their end in a ring of smaller pillars. He rounded the one he had emerged from to face the south end of the academy, and strode forward down the lone carpeted corridor splitting off toward the headmaster's chambers. He swung open the great oaken doors, decorated with matching murals of two towering trees, and craned his neck up to the newly instated control center he and Quistis had brought up with them from the MD levels. A small team of SeeD technicians stood atop, engaged in whatever maintenance work they had been assigned to by the commandant. The headmaster himself was not among them, nor did he appear anywhere in sight on the floor below.

"He's probably in his office," Quistis spoke from beside him, gesturing to a lone door set into the hall's right hand side. With the technicians appearing to pay their intrusion no mind, the three made their way across the long stretch of carpeted floor to stand in front of it. Squall rapped on the door twice and, after a pregnant pause, was acknowledged with a response.

"Who is it?" the familiar muffled voice called to them from the other side.

"The returning team from Galbadia, sir," he politely spoke. "We have important news to report. May we come in?"

A set of labored footsteps approaching from within served as the answer to his request. The door slowly parted to reveal Cid's wrinkled, bespectacled face in the gap. His dour blue eyes passed over the three of them cautiously, before he swung it ajar fully and wordlessly welcomed them inside. Squall accepted the invitation, gravitating toward the fore of the grand mahogany desk just as the headmaster maneuvered himself to its rear to re-seat himself in the cushioned swivel chair. A bay window with the curtains parted resided behind, offering a perfectly picturesque view of the ocean beyond. The end of the room opposite the door sported a plush king-sized bed, framed by a walk-in closet to one side and an elegantly crafted liquor cabinet set against the wall on the other. From the untied plastic bag set beside, visibly brimming with shards of broken glass and sopping tissue aplenty, it could be deduced that none of his personal reserve had survived the shock wave of the missile strike.

"What kind of news?" Cid asked at last, settling into his chair. "If you're here to give me your report on the assassination, it's quite alright. I can more or less guess what happened. The truth is, that assignment was never intended for your squad to carry out. The Galbadia Garden administration must have foisted it on you to help deflect any blame from themselves."

"We just learned that from Norg," Squall confirmed. "He told us everything. He wanted to offer us up to the sorceress as a show of goodwill. We took care of him and his goons. Rest assured, you won't need to worry about him twisting your arm anymore. That's what we're here to report."

"You _killed_ him?"

The middle-aged man's eyes went wide with surprise. Squall did not meet them for fear of the regret the man's stare might induce in him. A moment later he was suddenly struck by disbelief at the reaction's manifestation. Since the first time he had taken the lives of his enemies in Dollet, and all those which had followed in the past week of his military career, he had repeatedly found himself comfortably apathetic to the amount of blood on his hands. The complacency with which he could so easily accept the guilt had unnerved him, and led him to the point of wondering if it were beyond him to become one so depraved as Seifer. And yet now, fully complicit in the loss of yet another twenty human lives and that of a sickly humanoid creature, for the very first time, he could feel something more. No matter how justified in his actions he might have been, he was no longer numb to their ramifications. The headmaster's approval or lack thereof genuinely mattered to him now, equally as much if not more so than his own peace of mind. Such considerations should have been meaningless to him, and likely would have been at any point before the night of Edea's takeover.

 _What's happening to me?_

"Good riddance, then," Cid finally spoke, resting his elbows on his desk and bringing his clasped hands up to his chin in contemplation. "He's been nothing but a constant devil on my shoulder ever since we founded this Garden. I sometimes wish I could go back about thirteen years, and tell myself he'd be nothing but a money grubbing son-of-a…"

Cid closed his eyelids in frustration, trailing off without bothering to complete the epithet.

"If I may," Squall delicately steered the conversation back on track. "I'd like to know just what sort of agreement you had with him in the creation of this Garden. What _was_ he, anyway?"

"He looked like a Shumi to me," Quistis spoke up to his rear. "And a remarkably _portly_ one, at that."

"You're quite right," the headmaster affirmed, re-opening his eyes to meet hers over Squall's shoulder. "A 'black sheep' of the tribe, one might say. The Shumi have long been a very humble and reserved people, artistically-inclined by nature, and honor-bound to their old traditions. They live their lives in full dedication to their own individual crafts, constantly honing their respective skills for the purpose of making a contribution to their society. Norg's was an exceedingly rare case. He rejected the lifestyle of his people, and left Shumi Village to find a new calling. As it turned out, he had quite the talent for negotiation and mercantilism. Over the course of fifty years or so, he'd managed to accrue a great deal of wealth, and established some very high-profile connections across Galbadia, Trabia, and Esthar.

"When I was looking to establish this Garden, I needed a benefactor to provide the funds for construction. My search eventually led me to him, and we hit it off. Better still, the connections he'd forged with Odine Industries offered us a backdoor to take advantage of their technological advances, even after the closure of Esthar's borders. It was through him that we were able to commission a detachment of the country's best technicians to remodel the old Centran shelter. And how we later managed to secure exclusive use of Guardian Force technology for SeeD."

"The Garden was built by _Esthar_?" Quistis reiterated with surprise. Squall himself had been likewise unaware as to exactly who had been contracted in the academy's construction.

"All three were," Cid continued. "Atop other abandoned remnants of Centran architecture, no less. It's enough to make me wonder if the other two could be capable of mobilization like this one. Anyway, even with Norg's fortune at our disposal, we still needed an enormous amount of funds to keep things running. Truthfully, my original vision for Balamb Garden had been little more than an institution for underprivileged or otherwise estranged children with nowhere else to go. The very concept of SeeD had been my wife's idea. It was to be an elite force of expertly trained combatants, to always be standing at the ready in the event that Sorceress Adel or her successor might one day return. It was Norg who suggested turning it into a mercenary force, as a means of bringing in more funds for the Garden's operation.

"So we began dispatching operatives around the world, and sure enough, a massive amount of capital began flowing in. And that's when the Garden began to change. Norg's avarice began to whittle away at my original ideals, perverting SeeD's true purpose until it eventually became something unrecognizable. I had even wanted to expand GF usage to Galbadia and Trabia Gardens in turn, but that greedy bastard wanted to keep a monopoly on that technology, to assert this Garden's superior stature and ensure more contracts came our way. And by extension, more money came to him. We should have been hard at work preparing for our ultimate destiny, which we now face today. Instead, I have spent all these years at the beck and call of a despicable creature I once thought I could trust. In the end, it was my fault for giving up control. But maybe now, with him gone, there can be a chance to restore SeeD back to the way it should have always been. The way my wife once envisioned it…"

"And that actually leads me to my next question, sir," Squall began, his mind positively swirling as he fought to retain every tidbit of new information all the while. "He also mentioned to us that your wife… is Sorceress Edea."

" _What!?_ "

Squall turned his head to face Rinoa at his side. The girl, who had remained completely mum for the duration of their meeting thus far, had gone wide-eyed with surprise, her mouth agape in the shape of an oval.

"That's impossible!" she proclaimed. "That _can't_ be true!"

"I'm afraid that it is," Cid spoke glumly.

The man achingly rose from his cushioned swivel chair, turned from the gazes of the gathered three trained on him, and strode to the bay window. He stopped before the glass pane, staring out at the open sea before him, and heaved a heavy sigh. Squall's own breath had caught in his throat; he had intuitively expected the answer he would be given, but still was unprepared to hear it confirmed from the man himself.

"She had been a sorceress since childhood," the headmaster elucidated, his voice weary and emotional. "I married her, knowing that. I loved her more intensely than anyone I've ever known."

"I don't understand," Quistis sputtered in bewilderment. "You said that SeeD was your wife's vision… to prepare for the coming of another sorceress like Adel. How could she insist on creating something like that, only to _become_ the kind of person she'd wanted to stop in the first place?"

"I don't understand it either, Quistis," Cid told her, his eyes still fixed to the horizon. "I don't have the faintest idea what's happened to her. She used to be so sweet and lovely, nothing at all like what the horrible stories of sorceresses throughout the ages would lead you to believe. The Edea I knew had lived so much of her life terrified by the power she had received, and would never have used it for such evil ends. I remember when she told me of her plan for SeeD, my only concern was that one day she might run afoul of the organization if it ever came under the wrong kind of leadership. She just laughed and told me that would never happen. But…"

Cid paused, allowing the built-up tension to linger over the office as he turned back to face them. Squall's eyes intently tracked his every move, enraptured by the recounting as it rapidly drew to its conclusion.

"Signing off on that assassination order was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," he admitted, his eyes washing over the three. "All I could do was hope that Irvine would be a better judge of character than me to know the right course of action. And I hope that you will be too, Squall, Quistis."

Squall stood locked in a solemn stare-down with the headmaster, conflicted as to being shouldered with such a responsibility. To be charged with taking out such a powerful figure, both in terms of military influence and magical prowess, had been daunting enough even without the knowledge of her tightly-wound connections to Cid and SeeD as a whole. Reprehensible though her actions undoubtedly were, these new revelations disquieted him all the same, and at once, the circumstances surrounding their sniper's inexplicable reluctance came into clarity ever so slightly.

* * *

" _On your feet, soldier!" he snapped to the downed marksman. "As your commanding officer, I am ordering you to take this shot!"_

" _I told you, I can't do it!" Irvine roared, hoisting himself up in agitation with the rifle still slung over his shoulder. "Don't you have_ any _idea who that is!?"_

" _She's evil incarnate, that's who she is!" Squall furiously spat. "You wanted to know if our enemy was pure evil, didn't you? What more proof do you need!?"_

" _And what happened to 'right and wrong aren't what separate us'!? You damn hypocrite!"_

* * *

With the benefit of hindsight, he could easily infer that Irvine had somehow known of Edea's true identity, even from the very moment General Caraway had provided them their briefing in the carriage of his personal limousine. It had absolutely been for this reason that Cid had insisted on his assignment to the assassination team, as Norg's account had likewise corroborated.

 _I get it now… but, it still doesn't make any sense. How is it that_ he _knew who she was, but we didn't?_

"Headmaster!"

The frenzied cry sounded from outside of the office entrance, followed by a series of hurried raps on the door. Squall instinctively turned his head, and watched as Cid made his way over with far greater urgency than the man had shown to his group. The headmaster swung the door open, revealing one of the technicians who had been stationed atop the Garden control center on the opposing side of the frame.

"What is it?" Cid asked the visibly anxious young man.

"We've managed to get the sonar system up and running as requested," he saluted respectfully. "But, we've just picked up a bogey out in the waters. Whatever it is, it's approaching fast on the Garden's starboard side!"

"Just _one_?" the headmaster asked for clarification.

"Yes, sir. It's moving much too fast to be any kind of sea creature."

"Do you think it could be Galbadia?" Rinoa piped up, casting her gaze back to Squall.

"If it were, I'd expect it to be an entire fleet of ships," he answered, puzzled as to who else it could possibly be if not Edea's forces.

"It might be a scouting party," Quistis suggested. "Headmaster, your orders? Should we prepare for battle?"

"No, I don't think that will be necessary," he replied, turning back to face the three of them. "In fact, if my hunch is right, it may very well be our allies."

' _Allies'? What allies?_

"Starboard side, you said?" Cid addressed the technician. "Thank you for letting me know. As you were. Squall, Quistis, Rinoa, I'd appreciate it if you'd accompany me down to the right-hand observation deck on the second floor. Just in case I turn out to be mistaken."

"Who exactly do you think it might be?" Squall asked apprehensively.

"Not all SeeDs are kept stationed in this Garden," he vaguely responded as the technician cleared the way. "That's all I'll say for now. Let's hurry on down and see if I'm right."

The headmaster started out the door at a remarkably brisk pace for his age, leaving Squall to share a glance of uncertainty with his group. By the look of skepticism on her face, Quistis did not seem to have any understanding of the implication, either. Rinoa, ever the ignorant outsider, only showed complete and total confusion. With a reluctant sigh, Squall led the way after Cid, moving back out into the hall, down the stretch of red carpet, and out to the ring of elevators. They promptly filed into the first available lift, and within roughly thirty seconds descended to the Garden's second level.

Stepping out onto the connecting walkway extending directly over the southern stretch of the atrium, Squall realized that he could scarcely remember a time when he had set foot on the second floor. It had to have been more than ten years before, during the earliest years of his primary school-level education, for which the classrooms on the lower levels were exclusively reserved. Accordingly, each floor designated for use by the junior classmen came equipped with a panic room to be used for shelter in the event of emergencies, such as the previous day's uprising. Additionally, a pair of emergency escape hatches were set beside each of the two outdoor observation decks. From the Garden's routine evacuation drills, he knew that once opened each would deploy a yellow inflatable slide for the prospective students to take to the ground level. As they circled the outer ring of classrooms to come to the balcony doorway, he took notice again of the sealed exit framed by all manner of cautionary warnings, and realized that without some manner of life raft to use, the hatches would be all but useless to them in the event of the Garden sinking.

Cid strode forward to the unmarked, steel doorway beside, and swung it open to meet the whipping ocean breeze beyond. Squall raised his hand to shield his eyes from the midday sun as he followed him onto the observation deck. He swept his gaze over the steel banister, and instantly caught sight of the fast approaching ship tearing across the waves toward their position. Its design did not resemble any standard military vessel he had ever seen, but clearly neither was it any kind of civilian boat. Painted sheer white and flourished by elegant gold embroidering across the underside of its lengthy fuselage, the wooded deck stretched out from a spacious hollowed out alcove at its rear, which no doubt housed the cabins. The windowed helm sat atop, backed by a triad of large white wing shaped sails. From below, a small congregation of figures emerged onto the deck, bracing themselves as the ship began to decelerate for a mooring at the Garden's side.

"What fresh hell is _this_?" Rinoa moaned from behind, her words slowly fading into the white noise of the ocean and the approaching boat's engine.

"It's the White SeeDs," Cid answered her, remaining perfectly calm. "A special unit of SeeD that Edea and I formed long ago. They operate in secrecy, independent of Balamb Garden code."

"Are they here to help evacuate?" Quistis pondered as the ship finally pulled alongside them.

"No… or at least, not _us_. The White SeeDs were organized for one purpose alone."

 _And I'm sure you'll tell us any moment now, right?_

Waves crashed up against the synthetic outer shell below the balcony, as the boat fully slowed to a leisurely cruise beside the glacial, drifting Garden. Three crewmen on the deck outfitted in matching beige uniforms strode forward, and craned their necks up to meet the four of them. Squall noticed their foreheads each sported a cream-colored headband, and as the head of the group opened his mouth to address them, he could not help but feel a pang of familiarity at the sight of their attire.

"Headmaster Cid!" he called up with the signature SeeD salute. "We came as soon as we heard about the missile bombardment on Trabia Garden. Is everything alright?"

"Miraculously, yes," the headmaster responded, evidently crestfallen at the confirmation that Edea's preliminary target had in fact suffered a direct hit. "Thanks to these three, we were able to mobilize the Garden just in time. It's still all so surreal."

"We feared the worst when we saw the smoke rising from the Alcaud Plains," the operative explained. "We pulled into Balamb to search for survivors. The townspeople informed us about the Garden's collision into the sea. I'm sure you know why we've come."

"Indeed. Perhaps it was a mistake to have brought Ellone here, after all."

Squall's blood froze as the all-too-familiar name left Cid's mouth. His eyes widened in astonishment, instantaneously rendering him speechless just as when he had first heard it uttered in the waking world the morning before.

* * *

" _Consider that a warning," Seifer smirked. "Don't play dumb with me. Edea is well aware that safeguarding Ellone was one of the primary aims SeeD was founded to carry out. Now, let's try this again. Where is she?"_

* * *

 _So, it's true…_

"It has become too dangerous to leave her here," the White SeeD agreed. "Permission to come aboard?"

"That won't be necessary," Cid assured him. "I'll make a call for her over the intercom, and have her come right out to meet you. Just wait here a moment."

The headmaster turned on his heel and started back to the balcony doorway, gesturing for the three in his midst to follow behind. Squall remained standing with his back to the guardrail as he watched Quistis and Rinoa begin to traipse after him. The girl in blue turned back to him before passing through, and shot him an inquisitive look; his unwillingness to follow had not gone unnoticed. He returned a firm gaze in tandem with a dismissive hand-wave, bidding her to leave him to his own devices. She silently acquiesced and filed out after Cid and Quistis, leaving him standing on the observation deck by himself. As the door closed behind her, he turned himself back around and peered back over the banister to the idling White SeeDs on the deck below.

"Who is Ellone?" he called down to them, hoping desperately that for the first time, he might manage to glean some kind of concrete information related to his persistent dreams.

"Miss Ellone is the lady we have pledged our lives to keeping safe from the sorceress' clutches," the leader responded formally.

"Why? Who is she to you? And how is she connected to SeeD?"

"I'm afraid I can't reveal that kind of sensitive information to just anyone. Please understand that we have our reasons for operating in secrecy for so long."

"Then just answer me this," Squall pleaded, quickly recognizing he could never sway the rigidly obedient soldier from his sworn oath. "Does the name 'Laguna' mean anything to you?"

"I can't say that it does," he replied without hesitation. "Now, if we're finished, I would appreciate if you could keep your nose out of our affairs. You're welcome to stay up there and watch if it pleases you; I don't have the authority to tell you where you can and can't be on the Garden premises. Just know that getting involved would be… unwise."

He turned around in the wake of his thinly-veiled threat, and proceeded to follow his men across the deck. Squall backed away from the railing and propped himself up beside the door in awaiting. Once again, he was left without any explanation as to the nature of his startlingly realistic visions, which he had experienced for an unprecedented fifth time that very morning. He briefly paused to consider if the shared name might have been entirely coincidental, if perhaps it were a different Ellone whom the special SeeD regiment had been tasked with guarding. That a girl by the same name was now being actively sought by Edea, just as Laguna's adoptive daughter had supposedly been stolen away by Sorceress Adel was ultimately too much to write off as happenstance.

And yet, the notion that Edea had allegedly co-established the White SeeDs for the purpose of protecting her ran completely counter to what little he had gleaned from Seifer's interrogation attempt. The incongruity between the two accounts was insurmountable, leading Squall to believe the sorceress had indeed deceived his rival with some twisted variation of the real story. The reasoning as to why she would do such a thing still eluded him, and perhaps forever would. If the headmaster himself could not understand why his wife had turned down such a wicked path, what hope could there be for a fresh inductee such as him?

As he continued to mull over the many tidbits of contradictory information, bordering on nonsensical as he attempted to piece them all together, his focus redirected itself back to the White SeeDs stationed on the ship below. Their striking beige uniforms were a stark contrast to the black traditionally worn by standard-grade operatives, and yet strangely familiar to him all the same. He racked his brain to determine the exact time and place where he had glimpsed the attire before, casting his recollection to the beginning of the previous week when life had still been so simple. He thought back to a time when the Garden had still been firmly rooted upon the soil of the Balamb continent, when Galbadia had yet to be usurped by the headmaster's estranged wife, when the only lingering concern weighing on his mind had been the legitimacy of his newfound title in the aftermath of the Dollet incident. After several moments, the realization suddenly dawned on him.

 _That's right. It was on the day we got the assignment to go to Timber. That morning, in the training center… they were the ones who were trying to fight off the malboro. The ones who were protecting -_

Squall's breath immediately caught in his throat. His eyes widened as he felt his jaw come agape of its own accord. Seemingly out of the blue, the answer he sought for a question he had too easily forgotten was revealed to him. He remained completely still, leaning back against the side of the door in abject amazement for an indeterminate amount of time, until the sound of its creaking hinges roused him from his daze. He reflexively stepped away to the side as the door swung open, and turned his eyes toward the approaching sound of footsteps. From the exit strode an exceedingly familiar White SeeD, the very same who had seized hold of Squall's wrist in the training center when he had attempted to approach the mysterious young woman from the infirmary. The next moment, she followed him out onto the balcony.

Her trimmed dark brown hair barely reached her shoulders, exposed to the brisk ocean breeze by way of the sleeveless light blue blouse she wore. The lengthy white skirt extending to below her knees whipped in the wind, as did the instantly recognizable green shawl wrapped around her slender figure. Her deep brown eyes met his as soon as she cleared the doorframe, widening as her face took on an expression of surprise to match Squall's own. Her bodyguard glowered at him menacingly, demanding that he keep his distance. The second promptly exited onto the deck from behind the girl and joined in on the silent stare-down upon noticing his presence.

"Please," she reassuringly gestured to them with an outstretched arm. "It's alright. He's not a threat."

The two refused to take their eyes from Squall, yet obediently remained standing in place as she took several delicate steps toward him. His heart began to pound in his chest, not knowing how best to broach the many questions on his mind, or even if he ought to do so. He understood there was no guarantee that this was in fact the same girl from his dreams, and that even if it were, there was little likelihood she would actually believe he had experienced such ridiculous phenomena.

 _I need to know for sure…_

"Are you… Ellone?" he finally stammered, knowing the answer he would receive before it left her lips.

"I am," she confirmed with a disheartened sigh.

" _The_ Ellone?" Squall anxiously specified. "The one from… Laguna's world?"

All fell silent save for the sounds of the ocean. The girl appeared to hesitate, shifting her eyes down and away from his. After roughly five seconds of terse contemplation, the answer reached his ears by way of a soft mutter.

"Laguna's world… yes, I guess it would appear like a different world today. The passage of time will do that."

Although he had already determined his visions to be comprised of past events, to finally receive express confirmation shook Squall to his core nonetheless. More startling still was the implication that Ellone indeed knew of them, which could only lead to one conclusion.

"Are… are _you_ the one who's been sending me into the past?" he asked her incredulously. At once, he intuitively knew that her presence at his bedside in the infirmary, when he had awoken from his very first experience as Laguna, could not have been coincidental.

"I'm sorry," she admitted to him, still not meeting his eyes. "I just… I had to try. I had to see if it would work."

"If _what_ would work!?" he frantically lashed out, momentarily startling her bodyguards several feet behind. "And why _me_!?"

"I'm sorry, Squall" she apologized again, finally raising her face back up to him. "There's just too much to explain, and I'm afraid that I'm all out of time. I have to go, now."

Ellone craned her neck back to the two White SeeDs. With a taut nod, the pair crossed to the balcony railing and signaled down to their comrades on the ship below. The girl turned her attention back to Squall, himself still hunched over toward her in abject shock, and closed the remaining minuscule gap which stood between them. She gingerly maneuvered her head over his shoulder, and softly whispered her last parting words into his ear.

"Please… I need your help… you're my only hope."

The plea uncomfortably lingered in Squall's consciousness, leaving him paralyzed as Ellone backed away and followed her guards down the ladder the ship's crew had erected. His mind remained mired in a confused haze as he stood idly by for what felt like ages. Before long, the White SeeD vessel's engine sprung to life yet again. Slowly, it relieved itself from its mooring and began to drift from the Garden's side. He watched numbly as it turned away, and promptly sped across the ocean, cutting a swathe through the blue toward regions unknown. He remained standing there on the balcony, lost in thought, staring out over the water long after the ship had vanished from sight. For well over an hour his gaze remained transfixed on the horizon, ceaselessly reflecting upon every facet of their too brief exchange. Only when he finally noticed the sun in the sky above beginning its afternoon descent did he see fit to re-enter the floating academy.

The trek back through the second floor's outer hallway, down the elevator, and to his dormitory passed him by in an all-encompassing blur. It was his muscle-memory alone which effortlessly guided him to his destination; Ellone's final words to him continued to take up every ounce of his attention. By the time he lay upon his bedroom mattress, now strangely devoid of any of the comfort it had given him the night before, he could scarcely recall the steps he had taken to arrive there. He stared up at the ceiling in contemplation, ignoring the daylight peeking through the blinds of his drawn shades as best he could.

' _You're my only hope'… for what? Why me? I already have enough problems as it is!_

Squall tossed and turned restlessly, considering what rationale the still-mysterious girl could have to use her inexplicable power to send him into Laguna's mind. That she was now under SeeD's protection was proof enough that she had somehow escaped Sorceress Adel's clutches so long ago. Her serious demeanor likewise made it clear that it was something of greater personal importance than mere nostalgic pangs. Had some horrible fate befallen her foster father in the intervening years? Or were her motivations somehow directly related to the recent emergence of Edea? Whatever her reasons, Squall failed to understand why he should be the one forced to shoulder such a burden for the sake of a girl he knew virtually nothing about.

 _Why do people depend on each other, anyway? In the end, you're on your own. I've made it this far by myself…_

His recollection of the previous morning made him quickly retract his affirmation. Were it not for Rinoa and Irvine, as well as the congregation of moombas who had given their lives to help free him, he would likely still be interred in the D-District Prison, leaving the Garden to be destroyed by the missiles. Furthermore, he now owed Quistis his life on two separate occasions. To claim that all of his successes thus far were entirely of his own making was simply not true.

 _Fine, I'll admit that I'm here because of other people. I've depended on others when there's been no other choice, but… I have all the skills I need to survive on my own now. I'm not a child anymore… no, that's a lie. I still don't know anything. I'm so confused… I don't want to have to depend on anyone, but… how can I do that? Someone tell me… someone? So, I'll end up having to depend on others after all…_

Feeling more conflicted and troubled than he could recall in a long time, Squall shut his eyes against the dimly lit bedroom, willing himself to slip away from the turmoil of reality and into whatever comforting fantasy he could find refuge in.


	32. Chapter 10 - Days Spent Adrift

10

 **CHAPTER 10 – DAYS SPENT ADRIFT**

 _The boy's eyes slowly cracked open to meet the wooden rafters high above, girding a high ceiling constructed of light grey stone. The stiff mattress he lay upon further assured him of his familiar surroundings. He groggily sat up to take stock of them, maneuvering himself free from the tightly drawn covers and squinting through the glare streaming through the windows on the far wall. Roughly two dozen twin-sized beds like his own occupied the spacious room, one after another neatly made in accordance with the expected morning routine. The walls lay almost completely bare of any sort of ornamentation, save for the evenly spaced ring of extinguished gas lamps. Such were the accommodations he had awoken to for as long as he could remember, always in the company of the other children, and until recently, his beloved Sis._

 _Suddenly, the horrifying recollection came flooding back into the boy's mind. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the fearsome man, clothed in tattered rags, openly bearing the two bloodstained swords before him. The words he had uttered to him, proof beyond any doubt that it was he who had taken her away, still rang in his ears even now. He had tried to flee back to the house, only to be stopped in his tracks by the terrifying woman who had magically appeared from the portal of darkness. The fear had rendered him frozen to the spot, after which he could not remember anything more._

 _That he was still alive after such an ordeal was miraculous. Or had it only been a nightmare? Was it possible that the entire encounter had been nothing but a figment of his imagination? The sheer intensity and vividness was too real for him to simply dismiss it as such, but then, so too was his desire to see Sis again. The loneliness he felt had become so great, that often times he could scarcely convince himself that his day-to-day existence were not one long nightmare in and of itself. Had things truly become so bad that he could no longer tell the difference between fantasy and reality?_

" _Sis," the boy mewled with his head hung, eyes downcast to the plain woolen blanket drawn over his legs. "Come back… please, come back… please… I miss you."_

 _The rattling of the door broke him from his self-pitying. His heart leapt into his throat as his head instantly shot up to see it swing ajar._

" _Hello…?"_

* * *

"Hello? Squall?"

Squall drowsily creaked his eyes open as he was rudely awakened from his slumber. They immediately widened in surprise the next second, finding Rinoa's own staring back at him from an uncomfortably close proximity. The yelp escaped his lungs of its own accord, startling the girl as she reeled backward from his bedside with a shrill cry of her own. He abruptly sat up straight, momentarily alarmed, and afforded himself a brief pause to calm his racing heart. He reached back with his left hand to pull aside the nearest half of the window's drapery, allowing the setting afternoon sun to stream on through into the shadowy bedroom. After several labored breaths, he turned his ire to his unwelcome guest.

"What do you think you're doing?" he chastised her. "And how did you get in here?"

"I asked Quistis where I could find you, and she pointed me here," she explained candidly. "The door was unlocked. You looked so adorable, sleeping like a baby. I'm sorry for scaring you like that, but… you were talking in your sleep. It looked like you were having a nightmare."

Squall prepared to give Rinoa a stern reprimand for having invited herself into his private quarters, when her outfit, now properly illuminated by the waning daylight, swiftly wrested his attention away. The torn blue duster sweater was gone, replaced by a familiar choice of attire which until that moment he could have never imagined she would don. The comparatively darker navy uniform trailed down to a matching skirt ending around her upper thighs, both still tightly bandaged from the slashes they had sustained. A brilliant yellow ribbon hung from around her collar, framed on either side by silver shoulder pieces bearing the SeeD insignia. A pair of black shoes and dress socks reaching up to her calves completed the standard female Balamb Garden cadet uniform. That the freshly ironed apparel cut such a dazzling figure on her was almost enough to halt Squall's train of thought in its tracks.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he finally asked.

"Do you like it?" she teased with a smile. "Since I needed to ask Cid for another room key anyway, I figured I might as well ask for some new clothes while I'm at it. I can't just be walking around here in rags every day, can I? And besides that… I was hoping you might take what I'm about to ask you more seriously if I came to you like this."

"And what's that?" Squall reluctantly played along with her charade, dreading all the while what sort of ridiculous request she had concocted this time.

"Cadet Heartilly, requesting professional combat training, sir!"

The sudden brazenness in her voice combined with the swiftness of her right arm as she snapped into her best attempt at the SeeD salute caught Squall off guard. A moment later, the intent behind her words brought him to incredulity.

"You're joking," he flatly dismissed her.

"I'm completely serious," she reaffirmed.

"No, you're not."

"Take a look at _this_ , and tell me I'm not!"

Rinoa lowered her arm as she fell out of the salute, and reached inside the right-hand pocket stitched into the fore of the uniform. Her hand reemerged with a small silver sphere clutched within its clasp; he intuitively knew what it was even before she could extend it forward for him to properly examine.

"Where did you get that!?" he snapped, immediately losing the composure he had been fighting to maintain.

"It's the one that Norg guy had," she elucidated. "I want you to teach me how to use it."

"Forget it," he refused outright. "You need to hand that over to either the headmaster or the commandant right away. It's too dangerous for a civilian to be holding onto."

"It didn't seem like you had an issue giving me _yours_ ," she reminded him.

"I wasn't thinking straight when I did that," he deflected, purposefully leaving out that it had been the only gesture he could think of to keep her from following him into the unexplored depths of the Garden's maintenance levels.

"Well, from what I can tell, it looks like that was the only thing that saved you and Quistis. I'm not asking for much here. I mean, come on! It's least you can do to make up for dragging me into something like that. _And_ scaring the daylights out of me to boot."

"The answer is no. Norg is dead. The Garden is safe now. There's no need for you to learn how to fight with that."

"The _hell_ there isn't!" she shouted him down.

Squall could not help but flinch in the face of Rinoa's sudden swell in volume. Her face had contorted into a mask of frustration, her typically benign brown eyes staring back into his with an intensity he had rarely seen from her.

"I'm sick and tired of feeling like a burden every time there's danger! I've already told you, I don't want you or anyone else to have to constantly keep worrying about my safety. Like it or not, this is my fight too, and it's time I started pulling my own weight. And if I'm going to do that, then I need to become self-sufficient. I need to learn how to protect myself. Knowing how to use one of these things will help give me the leg up I need. So please, Squall… teach me how. This isn't an order. It's a favor… for your sake as much as mine."

The tenacity and self-determination she showed to him in that moment was admirable. Clearly, this was not the same spoiled princess who had been reduced to a trembling wreck in the face of Squall's own outburst at her outside of the Timber TV Station. It was enough for him to take her at her word that she was serious, though he remained apprehensive to grant her wish all the same.

"Why me?" he questioned her. "Quistis is the one with teaching experience. If you're so serious about this, then why don't you go to her about it?"

"Because I want to learn from _you_ ," Rinoa blurted out, her tone regressing back to a firm yet cordial request. "Is that really so much to ask? It's not like you're busy. I heard we're not going to be heading back ashore until the repairs are finished, anyway. So, what do you say?"

Squall sighed dejectedly, turning his eyes away from her and bringing his wristwatch up to take note of the time. The digital display read _18:14_ , indicating that he had been asleep for barely four hours. With the realization that he had eaten nothing for the entire day, combined with the exhaustion he still felt from the previous day's mad dash home and the morning's confrontation with Norg, he knew any prospective training would need to be put off until the next day. The all-important question still remained however: did he really want to spend his free time tutoring Rinoa in the utilization of a power she had no business wielding? And perhaps more importantly, would she even accept any other answer?

 _She's got the SeeD spirit, that's for sure._

"Tomorrow morning," he grumbled. "Meet me at the training center entrance at 0800 sharp, and we'll see just how serious you really are."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

The sprawling botanical expanse that was the Balamb Garden training center had changed little since Squall's last visit eight days before. He could deduce no immediate signs of leftover carnage from the uprising. Whether this were owed either to a swift cleanup job or the facility not having played a role in the confrontation, he could not tell. The latter would not have surprised him; given the various forms of vicious wildlife the miniature forest housed, the idea that Cid's loyalists would have risked bringing him there was unthinkable. Squall had already seen firsthand the complications Ellone's bodyguards had dealt with in keeping her protected from the malboro. He only hoped he would be equally prepared should a similarly dangerous creature intrude on his instruction of Rinoa.

Much to his surprise, and perhaps even a small amount of delight, his fresh trainee had arrived to meet him at the entrance airlock a full ten minutes before their agreed upon time. Still dressed in her newly acquired cadet uniform, the air of preparedness she carried about her was enough to convince him that this was not a decision she had made lightly. They had proceeded inside, and made their way through the forestry to Squall's open clearing of choice for when he would routinely come to practice his form. After several minutes spent collecting an adequate amount of dried-out kindling from the surrounding woods, he returned to find Rinoa seated patiently upon the rock formation set roughly in the center. Whether she had taken the position atop the boulders out of boredom, or to elevate herself in the event of any wildlife wandering into the clearing, she was quick to drop down as she took notice of his approach. Brushing the branches from the encircling ring of trees aside with one hand, he maneuvered himself back to her side, and promptly dropped the collection of twigs on the patch of barren earth surrounding the rocks.

"What's all that for?" she asked. "Are we starting a campfire?"

"You guessed it," he responded, bundling the sticks together into a single voluminous clump of makeshift firewood.

"Why? You're not gonna make me hunt something and cook it, are you?"

"Are you going to chicken out if I say yes?"

Satisfied with the amount of kindling, Squall rose from his knees to face her, taking a deep breath in mid-motion to mentally prepare himself. Having only just achieved SeeDship less than two-and-a-half weeks before, the responsibility of taking on a student of his own, however informally, was daunting.

"First, let's cover the basics," he began, detaching the GF sphere from his belt and bringing it up between them. "I'm going to be running through this pretty quickly, so pay attention. In essence, a Guardian Force is its own independently functioning energy field contained within one of these spheres. When you press down on the two buttons, the gap that opens up has been measured to allow just the right amount of that energy to seep out and intermingle with the physiology of whoever is holding it. Any more than that could potentially be volatile. Needless to say, these aren't toys."

"I never thought they were," Rinoa insisted, staring down at her sphere clenched in her own hand before her.

"It's still something that needs to be reiterated," he continued. "Zell found that out the hard way when he tried to disassemble his a couple of years ago."

"Yeah, I think you two mentioned something about that back at the old hideout in Timber. Knocked out all the electrical circuits in the dorms, right?"

Squall paused for a moment, struggling to remember if the incident in question had indeed come up at any point. That Rinoa knew the outcome was proof enough that there must have been at least a passing mention. As his memory stretched back to a time when he had shared the company of his two squadmates however, the realization that they both very well could be dead came flying back into his conscious. A pang of guilt abruptly shot through his gut, forcing him to consider just how casually he could bring himself to speak of Zell under such circumstances.

"That's… that's a good memory you have," he swiftly brushed the matter aside, hoping to steer the instruction back on track. "Now, let's see if we can put it to use with what I'm about to tell you. The various different schools of spellcraft a SeeD can make use of are divided into two categories. The first is generalized spellcraft, which are some of the more basic forms of magic that anyone with a sphere can learn to use. A good example would be standard defense spells for blocking physical and magical attacks, like that reflective barrier I put up around you and Quistis yesterday. We'll be getting into practicing that later on, once we've gotten you used to channeling the energy. Another example is the sleep gas you saw Quistis use on those guys at the front entrance. These are non-elemental varieties of magic that can be conjured relatively easily by anyone with proper training.

"The thing that makes each GF distinct however is the second category of spells, those of the elemental variety. The energy within each sphere is tied to its own specific elemental nature, which is what determines which types of spellcraft you'll have the best success with. There are six primary elemental schools in total: fire, water, earth, ice, lightning, and wind. There's also the school of holy spellcraft, which is extremely rare. I only know of two people with spheres of that elemental disposition…"

He momentarily stumbled at the mention of the two SeeDs in question, remembering the crest of Galbadia etched upon Selphie's bronze sphere. He still had no logical explanation to account for the illegitimate GF's existence, or how it could have been manufactured by any organization other than Odine Industries. The true nature of the energy contained within each sphere remained a closely guarded secret from all, likely including the headmaster himself. To produce a functioning counterfeit would require insider knowledge from within Esthar, as well as the necessary means and components to replicate the exact procedure. Clearly it had been an achievable task, leaving Squall to fruitlessly ruminate as to how and why Selphie had it. More concerning still was the very real possibility that she had been a spy in their midst all along.

 _Was the reason the missiles came after all because of-_

"This is a lot to take in," Rinoa piped up.

"Sorry," he muttered, refocusing on the lesson. "The point is, each sphere has a pre-determined affinity towards and against certain kinds of magic. The most important part of GF training is to recognize these strengths and weaknesses, and to focus on mastering the school your own is best suited for. Take me for example; my sphere's elemental disposition is fire, which leaves me at a sharp disadvantage when it comes to water and ice spells. It doesn't necessarily mean that I can't use those kinds of spells, but that compared to my strong-suit, or any other element, the potency will be much weaker."

"I think I get it," she hummed, staring back down at her own GF. "So, this one's a water sphere, right?"

"Correct," Squall affirmed, recalling the monstrous torrents he had sustained from the leviathan's onslaught. "That means that fire and lightning are your weak points in the elemental magic cycle.

"But I can still use the other ones, like ice or wind, right?" she looked to him with pleading eyes.

"With enough training, yes," he assured her. "But they'll never be a substitute for your GF's primary element. There's no use in being a jack of all trades if you don't have a firm grasp on your own strong-suit. That's what we're going to be focusing on today."

Squall depressed the switches on his sphere with one hand, and trained his opposite arm to the kindling at his feet. With a moment's concentration, a flurry of fiery sparks formed within the clasp of his outstretched glove. They shot from his palm, impacting on the conglomerate of dried twigs and setting several alight. Within seconds, the flames rapidly began to spread all over those in immediate proximity.

"We're going to have you use your water spellcraft to put this out," he explained. "It's all a matter of concentration. You have to feel the GF's energy around you, hone in on its frequency, and then let it wash over your mind. It's not easy to put into words, but you'll know if you're doing it right. Then, just imagine the water flowing out of your hands. You can close your eyes if that helps you to concentrate. That's about all the advice I can give. It's up to you to figure the rest out on your own. Let me know when you've made progress."

"Wait!" Rinoa begged as he turned away from the pyre dividing them. "You're not just going to leave me to do this all by myself, are you!?"

"My job is to watch the treeline for approaching monsters," he called back to her without breaking stride. "You said you were serious about this? Prove it. Oh, and before I forget, no lunch until you can at least make a light sprinkle of droplets. So, get practicing."

Squall did not turn back to take notice of her expression, but could imagine it perfectly all the same. Although he had never personally trained someone in the usage of a Guardian Force, the conditions he had laid down for her were the same that had been expected of him when he had first begun his training three years before. His first task had been of a similar persuasion, to set alight a wooden training dummy before the day's end or be sent back to his quarters with an empty stomach for the night. It had taken him several hours of mental fumbling to successfully identify the presence of the energy frequency around him, and channel it into a faint sputter of flames. If Rinoa were indeed as determined as she claimed to be, he expected it would take her roughly the same amount of time.

The remainder of the morning's exercise passed in relative silence, save for the girl's occasional exertions as she fought to summon the water from her fingers. Squall routinely circled the clearing all the while, his eyes continually darting all about the surrounding trees for any sign of movement. Only twice did he catch a glimpse of wildlife approaching from the northern edge. The first time had been a funguar, a bulbous and generally docile species of plant creature known for its tendency to release noxious spores when threatened; Squall's very approach had been sufficient to send it fleeing back into the woods from whence it had emerged.

The second had been a creature of significantly greater concern, a slithering hedge viper nearly ten feet in length. The venomous snakes' muted dark green scaling adorned with spots of yellow and brown provided a perfect camouflage within the training center's dense forestry. Unsuspecting cadets who had been bitten by one accounted for more training-related admissions to the infirmary than from any other creature. The serpent had fallen to Squall's gunblade all the same, its scaly exterior parting like butter with a single pull of the trigger hilt. No matter the threat it posed to them both, he knew the hedge viper was far from the deadliest monster in the artificial wilderness. The malboro from the week before was proof of that, as was the lone archaeodinos said to roam the center primarily in the evening hours.

Every so often, he would proceed to scour the thicket of trees to gather more kindling. Rinoa continued to strain herself all the while, appearing to have made no visible progress each time he rejoined her to further stoke the campfire. By just past 1100, she finally called out to him, appearing visibly exhausted as sweat rolled down her face, both from the amount of strain and the heat of the flames.

"Any luck?" he casually asked her.

"Not yet," she admitted between breathy huffs. "I just… I want to know… how long does it usually take for someone to get it right the first time? Am I doing _that_ badly?"

"About as badly as most people on their first day," he told her. "It takes a lot of getting used to. The important thing is to familiarize yourself with the sensation of the energy frequency. Have you been able to get a hold of it at all?"

"Kinda… at least, I felt _something_ different. But when I do, I just can't seem to hold onto it long enough."

"You can't let your thoughts wander while you're channeling the energy. You need to remain completely focused, or else the connection is going to fall apart."

"But how?" she threw up her arms in exasperation. "How am I supposed to keep my mind from thinking about anything while I'm trying to do something like this?"

"I didn't say you have to be thinking about _nothing_ ," he clarified, realizing she would likely be reaching her breaking point at any moment and give up. "I'm saying you need to keep focused on exactly what it is you're doing, and where you're directing the energy. In that moment, you shouldn't be thinking of anything other than the water flowing out of your hand, and your target. If you can learn to do that, then you'll be on your way."

"And it works the same way for every sphere?"

"Every one. Whether it's my fire, Quistis' ice, Zell manipulating earth, or Selphie using… well, her element, the principle is the same across the board."

The notion that Selphie's GF operated under the same precepts as a standard Balamb sphere was based entirely out of conjecture. He could scarcely know for sure unless he were to attempt wielding it for himself, an opportunity he doubted would ever come again.

"What was Seifer's element?"

The sudden question caught Squall off guard. He had expected the girl's curiosity to be piqued at his failure to mention Selphie's element by name, but never would have thought to hear his rival's name in its place.

"He… he had a fire sphere," he answered her after a long pause. "But he practically never used it. He only completed the certification program because it's a requirement to become a SeeD. I don't think he ever learned how to summon whatever creature was tied to it, either. He always had this stubborn hang-up about how relying on its power was a crutch."

For however misguided he had always thought Seifer to be on the matter, the dedication and resolve he had shown in keeping to his own code of honor had been admirable. That he had so willingly thrown it all away for Edea's favor, and freely accepted the dark powers she had bestowed upon him was utterly repugnant. The very thought sickened Squall, as he balled his right fist in furious resentment. He turned his attention back to Rinoa, staring intensely into her eyes.

"Just by being here… for putting in the effort to learn how to use it, of your own volition… you're already more worthy of its power than he'll ever be."

It was only after the words had left his mouth, and he noticed the look of surprise on Rinoa's face, that he realized how uncharacteristic such a statement must have sounded coming from him. He swiftly averted his eyes, feeling his face become even more flush than it had already been so close to the fire.

"So… don't give up," he quickly summarized his point. "You've got the right attitude. That's what really matters."

Squall turned back to his student after a moment's silence, and noticed her eyes were no longer trained on him. They were fully shut as she reached out with one hand over the smoking pyre, evidently taking his words to heart; her face was the very image of stoicism. Squall kept his eyes locked to her outstretched limb waiting patiently to see what, if anything, would materialize. Several seconds later, his unflinching stare gave way to wide-eyed surprise.

A light spray of water suddenly spilled from Rinoa's open palm, raining over top of the blaze. The volume was sparse, being nowhere near sufficient to douse the fire completely, but then Squall would never have expected as much on her first day of training. That she had managed to conjure anything at all was enough for the time being, and that it had come so quickly with the right amount of encouragement showed plenty of promise. The makeshift spigot that was her hand soon sputtered out, as she opened her eyes at last and shook the remaining droplets free from her skin. She turned her head toward Squall, who had yet to shake himself from the pleasant surprise, and cracked a slight smile.

"It… it worked!" she beamed. "I think picturing the fire as Seifer's might've helped a little. You were right. I just had to let everything else go, and keep focused on the moment. So… do I pass?"

"Again," Squall ordered, finally setting aside his amazement. "Do it again. We're going to keep at it until you can do it on command. Come on, hurry it up!"

* * *

The following weeks aboard the ever drifting Garden passed by largely without incident. In lieu of classes remaining on indefinite suspension, all hands continued to be routinely called into service for the repair efforts across the Garden. Squall himself had been no exception to the rule, finding himself assigned to the main atrium via lottery on two separate shifts. Within the span of the first week, most of the devastation to the interior facilities had been sufficiently patched, in addition to the inner courtyard and quad, leaving only the exterior damage to the academy's outer hull to deal with.

It had taken the maintenance crew assigned to the bridge little time to deduce the manner in which the Garden could be piloted, and so the headmaster had given the executive order to further distance themselves from the Balamb mainland for the time being. So long as repairs were still underway, and with the student body at large unprepared to re-engage in combat so soon, it had been deemed the best course of action in the likely event of a Galbadian naval battalion arriving on the island to survey the damage. They would find little more than a smoldering crater where the Garden once stood, and assume that the missile bombardment had been successful. Even should they venture into town and learn of the academy's mobilization, the sheer vastness of the sea would leave them without any clear heading.

With such an extensive amount of time spent detached from civilization at large however, the cafeteria's on-board reserve of food had quickly become cause for concern. A strict rationing program had been implemented overnight, and had been effective thus far in evenly distributing what remained of their monthly supply. A small subset of SeeDs had additionally taken to fishing off of the lower floor balconies in the early morning hours, with varying levels of success depending on the day. Others had elected to do their part by rounding up whatever species of edible wildlife they could capture in the training center, often times intruding on Squall's instruction of Rinoa. Taking into consideration the amount of students who had been evacuated from the Garden premises before the missile strike, as well as those who had regrettably lost their lives in the revolt, there were naturally fewer mouths to feed. As the second week rapidly drew to a close however, it had become increasingly clear that they would need to leave the open waters before long to restock on necessary supplies.

A return to Balamb was out of the question at the present time, as was any notion of heading ashore on the Galbadian continent. With Esthar to the east remaining shut off from the rest of the world, and Trabia too far north, they were left with no other choice but to set course for Fisherman's Horizon. It was a quaint settlement established by a sizable company of expatriates who had emigrated from Esthar just over fifty years before. What had previously served as a simple waystation situated at the very center of the Horizon Bridge had been appropriated and built upon over the years, eventually growing in scale to become an independent seaside nation-state much like Balamb. Squall himself had never visited the town before, and knew nothing of its people or their customs. Without any other viable options immediately apparent to them however, it seemed they would need to put their faith in the kindness of its people to give them a berth for at least a few days. And so, they had proceeded further south at a consistent cruise all the while, onward toward the Horizon Bridge.

Over the course of their time spent on the open sea, Squall continued to train Rinoa in the ways of Guardian Force control. Much to his surprise, the girl had proven herself to be quite a natural talent once she had gotten the gist of harnessing the energy. Within the first few days, her water conjuring had progressed from a light shower of droplets to a focused and consistent stream, whereby she finally managed to extinguish one of his campfires. Their daily regimen would typically consist of elemental spellcraft review, followed by a focus on defensive magic. Although she had presented little issue summoning a protective barrier, its structural integrity would too often collapse in the face of any external stimulus. He had explained to her that the shield's resistance would only be as strong as the amount of energy she infused it with, and encouraged her to not be stingy; building a strong tolerance for how much could be channeled at once was paramount to improving as a combatant.

Rinoa took each and every tidbit of advice to heart, and after more than two weeks had shown laudable progress. Her protective shields could hold up to at least a single strike from Squall's gunblade, her reflective spells could deflect one of his fire blasts, and together they had worked her command of water into a proper high-pressure torrent. She was still a long way off from being combat-ready by Squall's estimation, but had more than earned the right to keep the sphere for her own.

Before long, she began to question him about more advanced GF techniques such as summoning, to which he told her it would likely take at least a year of training to reach the level of expertise required. Disappointed, she soon after pivoted to questions regarding the other schools of magic, and how long it would be before they began work on something other than water and defensive spells. Squall again reminded her it was much too early to shift away from their current focus; for all of her hard work, she had still yet to master her sphere's primary element. Her pestering remained persistent, until finally he gave in and allotted one afternoon session to the workings of his various wind elemental techniques. Try as she might, the foreign concept of channeling the wind into her legs to amplify her movement was too much, and she quickly accepted a return to the style of spellcraft she was already comfortable with.

On several occasions, Quistis, who Rinoa had no doubt been keeping informed of the ongoing training, would drop in to observe and offer guidance of her own. To perform in front of an audience, no less his own former instructor, was a nerve-wracking experience for Squall every time she came. She would never intrude upon or otherwise undermine his lessons however, and would often provide an equal amount of praise to him as Rinoa. The encouragement was appreciated, however he could have done without the mischievous smile she constantly wore, evidently loving every second of the proceedings.

The seventeenth day since the missile bombardment began like any other. Squall and Rinoa ate their rationed breakfast in the cafeteria, proceeded to the training center, and began their morning routine as was the norm. Quistis made her appearance close to noon, to observe and likewise keep her eyes attentive for any approaching monsters; the amount of hunting which had taken place in the previous week alone had no doubt significantly reduced the wildlife population. As Squall readied another fireball to test the resilience of Rinoa's reflection spell, his concentration was suddenly broken by the signature four-tone chime of the intercom, reverberating down from the speakers set high into the towering domed ceiling. Moments later, the headmaster's voice exploded into prominence.

" _Attention all students and staff. We are making our final approach to Fisherman's Horizon. Once we have docked, I ask that you please do not leave the Garden under any circumstances until you are permitted. We do not wish to paint ourselves as an invading army. We will be sending ashore a team of diplomats to discuss our terms with the ruling government. Until then, I repeat, do not leave the Garden under any circumstances. Thank you."_

"So, what's going to happen now?" Rinoa spoke up, allowing her shield to fizzle away in a faint flash of light.

"I have no idea," Squall admitted. "We hope they'll let us stay moored here until we can stock up on what supplies we need, finish up repairs, and then we leave."

"And if they don't let us?"

"Then we find somewhere else," Quistis answered as she strolled over to join them. "We're not in any danger of starving yet. This was just the closest and most out of the way place from Galbadia we had to go. From what I've heard of it though, I get the feeling they're not going to be all that happy to see us."

"Because we're military?" Squall assumed.

"You don't even know the half of it. The people who run this town are die-hard…"

She trailed off as the intercom's four tones sounded once more, and the three turned their heads skyward again.

" _Attention everyone!"_ the headmaster's voice ripped through the training center, sounding far more anxious than he had been moments before. _"We are en route for a collision with the outer walls! Brace for impact, now!"_

* * *

The gargantuan concave solar array which supplied power to all of Fisherman's Horizon was as immense as it was blindingly brilliant in the midday sun. Panel after raised blue panel stood erected within the depressed enclosure easily four-hundred yards in diameter, sloping downward from its ringed circumference to a lone two-story house on the central platform at the bottom. The home, belonging to the mayor, was accessible only by the twelve steep sets of stairs erected at regular intervals around the synthetic basin, all presently brimming with townspeople. Atop the platform, a collective of senior officers sat at their own respective tables loaded down with paperwork, each awaiting their next victim to be brought forward to face interrogation. A pair of guards charged with keeping the mayor and his wife forcibly confined to their home stood at attention on either side of the door.

With the aide of his visor and sniper scope to shield his eyesight against the glare, Army Specialist Evans scoured the lay of the commotion below for the umpteenth time since sunrise. Any inkling of spare room surrounding the platform was completely filled by the mob of civilians tightly packed together. Dozens of Galbadian infantrymen on the ground kept their rifles trained to the captives, just as he and his fellow sniper regiment stationed high above in pairs did the same. So it had been since the platoon's arrival that morning, when the order had been given to round up the entire town's population for individual questioning. Their comrades left behind in Timber, who they had parted ways with before crossing the Horizon Bridge due east, had likewise been given the same orders. Evans' detachment had been sent on their way with significantly less firepower in reserve, save for a small handful of iron-clad tank mechs. For the staunchly pacifist settlement they had been tasked with occupying, it had been more than sufficient.

"How long're we gonna stick around here, anyway?"

The specialist took his eye from his scope and turned his head to his assigned sniping partner. He had never personally worked with the man before, himself a straggler who had lost most of his squad in a freak catastrophe and been picked up along their route heading down the Great Plains of Galbadia. Nevertheless, after a laser-precise demonstration of bottle shooting one night after they had stopped to make camp, the young Private First Class Morris had secured himself a position on the sniper regiment with flying colors.

"Pretty sure it's gonna be an indefinite placement," he replied, re-affixing his eye to scan over the citizens clustered together below. "At least, that's what I picked up from the commander. We left our boys at Timber a few days back, the second Dollet siege should already be underway right about now, and I'm pretty sure Balamb's gonna be next on the list after that."

"So, we're jus' gonna keep goin' until there ain't a town not flyin' our flag?"

"' _Our_ flag?'" Evans scoffed. "D'you really think we can still call it that anymore? But hey, at least that peace-loving hippy of a mayor saved us the trouble of having to burn this place down."

"Can't argue with that," Morris sighed. "But I don't get what the point o' all _this_ is. Why do we gotta round up all the townspeople an' put 'em through the wringer like this?"

"Because we're looking for someone. Some girl named 'Ellone', I think."

" _Ellone!?_ "

The sheer amount of surprise in the private's reaction caught Evans off guard. He performed a sidelong glance with one eye, to find Morris' visor staring back, mouth slightly agape.

"Something wrong?" he inquired.

"It's jus'… you're tellin' me this is all fer the sake of findin' one person? What makes this girl so special?"

"You're askin' the wrong guy. But that's what the witch wants, apparently, and she's ready to comb over the entire world to find her. We'll probably be stuck here until they do. And if they don't, I bet they'll be sending us down the tracks to Esthar next."

The specialist himself could not understand why so much manpower had been mobilized for the sake of hunting down one person. It was not his place to question the supreme authority of Galbadia's new ruler however, no matter the treacherous manner in which she had usurped the president. He was nothing more than one of hundreds of thousands of easily replaceable foot-soldiers, sworn to serve his nation no matter his own personal misgivings with the mission he had been assigned. He knew for a fact that his sentiments were shared by virtually every member of his immediate entourage. For that matter, he understood there could not have been a soldier in the entire army without any reservations about the new order.

The incessant mewling and whimpering of the terrified citizens continued to reach his ears on the breeze, along with the occasional roar of intimidation from one of the sentries. All the while, the people continued to be shuttled forward onto the platform one by one for their information audit, and often subsequently marched back off within minutes. As he continued to observe the proceedings restlessly, a sudden yelp from further along the raised circumference drew his attention. Craning his neck in the direction of the cry, Evans noticed a fellow pair of snipers with their eyes drawn away from the commotion in the center, staring out directly over his position to the distance. With a momentary glance through his scope around the ring, he noticed such was the case for every other team situated on the opposite side of the solar array. Curiosity overcame him, and he turned around from the lip of the basin to see for himself.

"What the- !?"

A towering synthetic structure resembling a conch shell loomed just beyond the settlement's exterior sea wall to the north. Its vibrant blue, silver and gold coloring appeared dazzling in the sunlight, growing ever more prominent as it continued to drift closer seemingly of its own accord. The deafening crash came seconds later as it burst through the barrier with ease. Steel screeched as the girders were torn asunder, sending a tremendous explosion of debris tumbling into the waters below. The ground beneath Evans' feet shook from the tremor, sending him toppling back onto the lip of the array.

"Holy shit!" Morris swore as he fought to keep himself steady. "That thing can _move_!?"

Evans opened his mouth to respond, when the shrill sound of hundreds of shrieks sprang up all at once from below. He quickly righted himself in an effort to take stock of the situation, only to find that the corralled masses gathered at the base of the steep incline had erupted into chaos. The captive citizens pushed and shoved every which way, those relegated to the outer rim of the mob turning tail and beginning to climb the steps to the top of the basin as fast as their legs would carry them. Gunshots erupted amid the confusion, only serving to further agitate and alarm those in their immediate vicinity. The people broke from their tightly packed ranks with wanton abandon, many scattering beneath the solar panels for cover. All around, Evan's fellow snipers had promptly set to work on those making the desperate rush back up the encircling staircases. With a deep breath in through his nose, he brought up his rifle's scope once more and prepared to do the same.

"What're you doin'!?" his young teammate demanded from his side.

"What's it look like?" he scoffed, taking aim on the head of the pack fighting their way up the nearest staircase. "Open season."

He maneuvered the targeting reticule over the frantic man's figure, and prepared to pull the trigger. The sudden sensation of a cold steel barrel pressed to his cheek froze his finger in mid-motion.

"Good to know. I was gettin' _real_ tired o' this schtick, anyway."


	33. Chapter 11 - War on the Horizon

11

 **CHAPTER 11 – WAR ON THE HORIZON**

The headmaster's insistence for everyone to remain calm following the collision had evidently fallen on deaf ears. Squall and his two comrades had rushed back into the main atrium to find a buzzing swarm of cadets and SeeDs strewn about, many among them packed together around the elevator capsules on the central platform. Recognizing the impracticality of squeezing through such a throng to reach the lifts, the three turned back to the hallway leading to the training center, and made haste for the maintenance stairway they had passed along its length. Several flights of steps later, they came to the second floor landing. Squall gingerly cracked the door ajar, taking care not to fling it open into the path of any oncoming student, and led the way amid the fresh wave of rampaging cadets to the port-side observation deck.

The wide stretch of curving hallway they traversed toward the fore of the academy mirrored that of the starboard side, where he had watched Ellone take her leave with the White SeeDs two weeks ago. As they approached the heavily contested doorway, crowded by many heated students vying for a spot on the deck, he took note of the emergency exit set beside in an identical manner, and realized that it would perhaps come to serve its purpose very shortly. Squall forcibly cleared a path for Quistis and Rinoa to follow behind, and stepped on through the doorway to join the crowd of onlookers. The sea breeze swept across his face as he set foot outside, chilly as he peered over the heads of those before him to take in his first glimpse of Fisherman's Horizon.

The town proper appeared to have been constructed around a winding, circular train depot shooting off from the Horizon Bridge. The lengthy stretch of abandoned, intertwining railroad tracks had been appropriated to become streets on the edge of the water, paving the way around the looming, rusted central complex. Dozens of ramshackle domiciles had been erected in its shadow all along its circumference, the infrastructure of each appearing to be composed of a variety of recycled building materials. A great number of wooden docks extended outward from the tracks below, several trailing nearly as far as the imposing reinforced sea wall that the Garden had smashed clean on through. More than twenty large windmills sat atop the surrounding barrier, kept in perpetual rotation by the same chill breeze. For as soothing as it felt on Squall's skin, the sounds it carried to his ears brought him no peace of mind.

"Is that… gunfire?" Rinoa asked him from his side, echoing the murmurs of every other student standing in their company on the deck. He raised his eyes to the source of the incessant racket, the height of the central structure around which the entire settlement had been established. A contingent of seemingly frantic townspeople spilled from over the lip and onto the surrounding upper set of tracks, scattering every which way as they raced for the nearest downward incline leading to sea level.

"What's going on up there?" one student pondered from nearby.

"Guess we really freaked the hell outta 'em," another piped up in response.

"But what are they shooting at if it's not us?"

"It's not _them_ shooting!" Quistis loudly declared, instantly laying to rest any excess muttering surrounding them. "There's not a gun in this town if there's a person who'd be willing to touch one. All of you, get back inside. Spread the word for all SeeDs who are able to prepare for battle immediately, and to report to the second level for deployment. You two! Get over to the starboard-side deck and throw open the emergency exit. Start sending people down as soon as they're ready to go. Let's move, everyone!"

The congregation of students quickly dispersed back through the door at her command, the head of the pack kicking up a ruckus as he bellowed her instructions practically verbatim to anyone within earshot. As the crowd to have gathered on the deck rapidly thinned in his midst, Squall's eyes remained fixed to the chaos afoot upon Fisherman's Horizon. The niggling, sinking feeling that had been building in his gut all the while came to fruition as he noticed the swathe of familiar blue and silver uniforms beginning their charge in the distance, pushing forward along the lower streets from the direction of the bridge's west end. In an instant, Quistis' hunch had been proven to be so much more, and her rapid-fire orders to the student body justified.

"Squall!" she called to him as she ducked back through the door. "Give me a hand with this!"

He spun on his heel in tandem with Rinoa to follow Quistis back into the bustling hallway. There he found her by the port-side emergency exit hatch, setting her grasp firmly on one of the dual release levers. He wasted no time in taking hold of the one opposite, having managed to accurately predict their method of disembarking from the floating academy. That they would potentially do so while under enemy fire he could never have guessed. After a quick three-count, the two heaved hard on their respective levers and pulled upward with all of the might they could muster. The hatch raised to the rusted, worn out facade of Fisherman's Horizon, just as Squall had seen it moments before from the balcony.

Above the sudden gust of wind whipping into the hallway, the sound of yet more air rapidly pressurizing came from directly below his feet. The lengthy yellow slide promptly inflated with the speed of an airbag. It shot out from the compartment beneath the open hatch in a manner akin to a striking hedge-viper, arcing over the full span of the surrounding waters and falling to earth on the edge of the encircling railroad tracks. The angle at which it settled was not especially steep, instead providing a gradual decline over to the besieged settlement for the gathering contingent of armed SeeDs to take.

"Listen up!" Quistis turned back to address the small group of first respondents in their midst. "You're to secure the town streets and make your way to the summit. There could potentially be a hostage situation in progress up there, so exercise extreme caution. Now, move out! Go, go, go!"

The uniformed squad of roughly ten raced forward at her command, two at a time seating themselves on the lip of the yellow slide and taking the plunge down into the fray without hesitation. From his current vantage point by the left hand-side of the hatch, Squall shifted his gaze further along the winding tracks where the slide met its end, to see its starboard counterpart had touched down in the interim. However resilient the constructive fiber that both were comprised of appeared to be, he very much doubted their integrity would withstand incoming gunfire. As such, it was imperative that as many operatives be deployed as quickly as possible while the Galbadian troops were still preoccupied with the swathes of townspeople run amok. With his gunblade and Guardian Force sphere both readily on hand, he took a deep breath in through his nose to prepare himself for a spot on the front lines.

"Rinoa," he addressed his student as he turned back to face her. "Stay up here and help with sending people-"

Squall cut himself short as he realized the girl was nowhere in sight amid the commotion-ridden corridor. He frantically darted his eyes left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar flowing head of dark hair among the bustling swarm of uniforms, but to no avail. It was then that his gut instinct brought him to redirect his focus to the one place he desperately hoped not to see her; that he felt so was reason enough for him to believe that she was. His eyes landed on the slide, just in time to see Rinoa push off from her seated position on the edge.

"No, wait!" he desperately called out, barely resisting the urge to lunge forward for fear of tumbling out of the hatch. Whether or not she had heard him, gravity refused to comply with his request.

"Looks like _someone's_ ready for her field exam," Quistis dryly commented, appearing appropriately concerned if not at all surprised. "Go on, I'll catch up later once we've gotten more troops on the ground. Make sure she doesn't get herself killed out there."

"You don't have to tell me," he snapped back, falling to his rear and casting off down the yellow slope on command.

The wind rushed through his locks as he plunged downward, gaining momentum at an alarming rate. Raising his eyes to the looming central structure, growing ever more imposing in scale as he slid toward its base, he could see the stream of civilians to have emerged onto the upper tracks had become a rampaging mob. Frenzied men and women alike, a number holding tightly to children in their arms raced down the curving roads, no doubt vying desperately for the safety of their homes. By the pack's sheer density, Squall could reasonably assume the hostage situation Quistis suspected had involved the entirety of the town's population, as evidenced by the stark vacancy of the lower tracks where his comrades had touched down.

He abruptly seized hold of either side as the flume finally met its end, quickly maneuvering his feet over the edge of the inflatable material and onto the side of the rails running through the street. He surveyed his immediate surroundings, quickly spotting Rinoa amid the dispersing SeeDs, and rushed over to her side. Further along the stretch of track, the first batch of Garden troops deployed from the starboard side had begun to make landfall, spreading out down the west end the moment their feet met the ground.

"What the hell are you thinking!?" Squall chastised the girl, prompting a startled jolt out of her as she turned to face him. "Don't just go rushing off into a war zone like that!"

"And don't _you_ tell me to stay behind!" she countered with a determined stare. "I asked you to teach me how to use this sphere so I could pull my weight. That's what I'm here to do."

With the fast encroaching chaos by way of of citizenry and soldiers alike well on its way, he stifled the urge to remind her that she had only started training two weeks earlier. Regardless as to whether she would listen, he recognized there was presently no way for her to re-board the Garden to begin with.

"Stay close to me," he acquiesced, activating the sphere clipped to his belt. "And get your shield up, _now_."

"Way ahead of you," she smirked, evidently satisfied by her small victory over him.

Squall swiftly conjured his own protective barrier, the shimmering blue aura fading into infrared moments after it flashed before him. The sporadic clatter of gunfire continued to echo down from atop the central complex, sounding to be concentrated further inward as opposed to around the ring where the civilians had scattered. The absence of snipers situated around the circumference appeared to have been a tactical blunder on the part of Galbadia, if their goal had indeed been to contain the hostages on the central elevated section of the town. Regardless, that the shots had yet to cease altogether was proof enough that they urgently needed to surmount the structure as quickly as possible.

At an imposing fifty feet or more removed from the tracks below however, Squall recognized that his wind leap technique would undoubtedly come up short, much less being forced to do so while carrying Rinoa. He had only just managed to reach the Presidential Residence's upper level with Irvine hanging onto him, after a running start to further build speed no less. The tracks, while spacious enough to function as a medium-sized roadway, had been laid down largely in the shadow of the structure's upper lip, leaving nowhere near sufficient room for such an approach. With the lion's share of pedestrians currently storming down the nearest decline to the east, they would be forced to seek passage upward further along the tracks circling due west. To do so would require fighting their way through the approaching troops he had previously seen stationed on the side of the bridge leading toward Timber.

"Let's move!" he gestured to Rinoa, setting out after his fellow SeeDs who had already begun their charge into the fray.

Numbering roughly three dozen in total, the first offensive wave spread their formation as wide as possible given the limited space between the street-side houses and the water. With the distinct lack of carnage or ruin strewn about the settlement, relative to its naturally disheveled and makeshift appearance, Squall could assume that the people of Fisherman's Horizon had accepted surrender to Galbadia without any kind of struggle. Quistis' seeming knowledge that the people were of a staunchly pacifist persuasion reflected as much, leaving him to hope they would be more welcoming of their sudden imposition once they had successfully repelled the invaders.

After no more than half a minute, the enemy troops came into visibility from further down the tracks. In terms of infantry, the number appeared to almost evenly match that of the SeeD forces; what genuine cause for concern they had brought with them trailed closely behind. The pair of imposing tank-like mechs rumbled and jerked as their treads fought to remain balanced atop the uneven rails running through the road. Both sported a sizable cannon engraved into the fore, complimented by a spooling machine gun turret set directly below.

Assault rifle fire kicked up instantaneously from both sides, the Galbadian rounds predictably pinging off of the SeeDs' protective barriers. No matter the amount of times each had seen combat in their respective careers, Squall could imagine the presence of the infrared shielding still did nothing to keep from instinctively flinching in the face of oncoming bullets. Despite the momentary invulnerability provided, enough concentrated firepower would whittle away at their integrity all the same and lead to the energy's diffusion. It was because of Rinoa's inexperience in forging a shield of sufficient durability that he had sought to keep themselves relegated to the rear of the platoon. Even as the enemy troops began to fall in the midst of the crossfire however, the SeeD forces began their dispersal from the center of the tracks to the houses erected along the inside. Taking Rinoa by the hand, he forcefully guided her along out of the tanks' line of fire, seeking refuge behind the nearby support beam to the central structure.

The twin detonations came one after another the next moment. The sheer volume of the explosions engulfed Squall's ears as he reflexively brought his arm up before himself and Rinoa by his side; true to his expectations, he could not resist the urge in spite of his shielding. The ground shook as shrapnel and smoke promptly filled the air, rising from the pair of freshly carved craters bored into the tracks. Soaring steel and concrete fell from the sky into the water and across the fore of the neighboring domiciles. He strained his eyes to peer through the slowly settling devastation, catching a faint glimpse of a pair of bodies lying motionless beside the wreckage; it appeared not every operative had managed to clear the blast zone in time. Before the haze could fully settle, a blindingly bright light shot forth into its midst, forcing him to avert his vision. The sudden burst of luminescence promptly overtook the ravaged set of tracks, rapidly growing in size until it exploded outward from its source.

The light gradually faded away, revealing a striking humanoid female standing amid the rubble. Much like Quistis' own Guardian Force, the woman's slender figure was almost completely exposed for all to behold, albeit sporting a far more natural skin tone than the ice familiar's pale blue. With the volume of golden feathers sprouting from her back appearing to be arrayed around her in a manner befitting an open corset and skirt, she very well might have passed for a human being from a distance. Besides her sharpened claws, gleaming in the midday sun as she raised both of her hands up before her, it was her hairstyle which definitively drew the line; what at first glance appeared to be two unnaturally long blonde fringes trailing down to her ankles were in fact wings resembling those of an angel or large bird.

A pair of glistening, radiant spheres suddenly formed within the clasp of the woman's talons. By their sheer vibrancy alone, Squall could deduce them to be comprised of the same holy energy he had seen Selphie's familiar utilize to destroy the president's body double. She unleashed them the next moment, sending the two blasts careening toward the twin tank mechs. Surviving Galbadian troops scrambled for cover, those nearest the water diving in headfirst to escape the blast. The ensuing destruction was likewise comparable to the blazing inferno that had engulfed the decoy train carriage. Both heavy-armored vehicles detonated on impact with a tremendous roar, putting to shame the damage they had dealt to the stretch of decommissioned railway.

Squall swung his head back around behind the support beam for cover, he and Rinoa fighting to maintain stability in the presence of the massive tremor all the while. He dared not peek out again until, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the mystical woman's figure become engulfed by the same light which had heralded her arrival. The energy dispersed in a flash, leaving no one standing atop the ruined segment of road until the familiar's conjurer stepped forward over the debris with a squad of seven additional SeeDs in tow.

"Keep pushing forward!" Commandant Xu shouted to all who could hear. "To the summit! Let's go!"

Without breaking stride, she drew her short swords from either side of her waist, her face as stern and determined as Squall had ever seen it. A brief cheer of camaraderie sprung up along the interior of the tracks, as the SeeDs relieved themselves from cover and resumed their charge toward the now smoldering enemy lines. Squall shared a brief glance with Rinoa, concerned that being in the presence of so much destruction would be liable to leave her rattled. Her eyes met his, brimming with understandable apprehension, but not the crippling fear she had displayed following her close brush with the lizard creatures in Deling City. Satisfied, he turned away and silently motioned for her to follow behind him.

The two fell back into formation with the offensive surge, bringing up the rear as the machine-gunners to the fore cleared a path. As they steadily progressed, he would perform routine checks behind to ensure they were not being flanked, or that any enemy stragglers had emerged from hiding in the aftermath of the standoff. All he could see was throngs of frightened townspeople having made their descent, hurriedly dashing all along the street for what safety their dwellings could afford them. Before long, the squadron hung a sharp left at Xu's behest, and began their ascent up a connecting set of tracks leading toward the settlement's apex. What few infantrymen they encountered along the way were dispatched of with ease by the frontlines.

It was only then that Squall fully realized just how paltry a detachment Galbadia had deployed to occupy Fisherman's Horizon. Given its compact area, comparatively low population to most standard towns, and the notion that there would be little to no resistance offered, he could understand the logistics behind keeping the invading battalion sparsely fortified. Gazing out over the iron guardrails as they continued their climb, he observed still more SeeDs and cadets alike spilling from the Garden's dual evacuation slides; the numbers were very clearly in their favor. He had yet to draw his gunblade for battle, nor had his student been provided an opportunity to make use of her offensive spellcraft. As they neared the top of the tracks, he offered up a silent prayer that their fortune would remain favorable.

The squadron fanned out in either direction as they reached the upper ring, circling around what appeared to be a massive divot incised across the full length of the central structure. Upon drawing closer, Squall realized it to be so much more. The concave basin stretching from one end to the other had been fitted with more solar panels than he had ever seen arrayed together in one place. Panning his vision across the lay of the land, he caught fleeting glimpses of straggling civilians darting beneath for cover. The lengthy set of stairs before him leading downward had laid bare its casualties, wounded and deceased alike strewn about in the aftermath of the rampage. Upon closer examination, he noticed a number of Galbadian troops lay among them, seemingly disposed of well ahead of their arrival.

 _So they did fight back after all?_

The SeeDs made their advance, some circling around the circumference while others charged down the stairs and into the fray. As his immediate surroundings cleared, Squall's eyes landed on a nearby pair of enemy corpses lying prone on the lip of the wide basin. Both rested beside their fallen sniper rifles, their sheared-through helmets appearing to have each suffered a shot from one such high-caliber round. Before the possibility of friendly fire among the Galbadian forces could even properly register, it was confirmed for him with a single glance down to the center of the solar array. Uniformed soldiers clashed with one another before the rustic home erected on the platform below, locked in what appeared to be exclusively close quarters combat. What assault rifle fire still met Squall's ears seemed to emanate from his rear, further down along the lower tracks.

"What's happening?" Rinoa echoed his thoughts as she stared on beside him. "Why are they fighting each other?"

"Just get down," he ordered, quickly racing over to the pair of fallen snipers and dropping to his knees. He forcefully shoved the nearest body aside, hefted the rifle up into his arms, flattened himself against the hard concrete ground so as to further reduce visibility, and took aim upon the platform through the magnified scope.

The civil confrontation had indeed devolved into a purely close range affair, seemingly clustered around two particular spots on either side of the house's fore. To one end, a lone, particularly scrawny infantryman expertly fended off assault from all sides by way of a pair of glaives held in either hand. On the opposite side, another isolated soldier repelled similarly stacked odds with what appeared to be only his physical prowess. As the two parties momentarily broke from one another, Squall focused the reticule upon the man's fists, and felt his breath catch in his throat as he recognized the familiar stone armoring both had been magically reinforced with.

 _It can't be…_

He rapidly swiveled the scope back to the first soldier, now well and truly cognizant of their comparatively puny stature to each of their opponents. As he breathlessly observed the manner in which the fighter wielded the dual blades, he suddenly recognized the style to be one not derived from any school of swordsmanship, but rather martial arts. The elegance and distinct flowing motion present in each strike was unmistakable, at times appearing as if the pair of glaives were connected by an invisible chain. He watched on in disbelief, only snapping back to reality as a duo of incoming soldiers abruptly toppled over onto the platform, one after the other, well before having come within range of the blades. Their necks jerked violently as they fell, evidently dispatched of via a successive pair of well placed sniper shots. They had certainly not been his own.

 _That makes all three… I don't believe it…_

"Anything?" Rinoa lightly inquired from his side. "What's the call?"

"I… suddenly feel a little lighter," he commented, setting the rifle aside and raising himself back to his knees.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Never mind," he brushed her off, standing up straight. "Come on. I have a feeling everyone here's going to be in for one hell of a surprise."

Squall took off down the stairs before Rinoa could pester him for an explanation, bolting along as quickly as his legs would carry him. He kept his eyes firmly trained downward all the while so as to avoid stumbling over the significant number of bodies littering the steps. The steepness gradually subsided as he drew closer to the bottom of the basin, to the point where he could comfortably relieve his gaze from his feet and re-orient his focus on the platform. His fellow SeeDs had come to a halt in the open stretch of space surrounding the house, observing the ongoing conflict with puzzlement. Xu, presently situated at the head of the group, held her arm out to signal a ceasefire. Whether or not she had made the same observations he had, the contained struggle provided little incentive to intervene for the time being. No hostages presently occupied the platform, and with plenty of reinforcements waiting in the wings, picking off the surviving troops would take little effort in any case.

Within less than twenty seconds, the last of the genuine Galbadian forces fell to the ground, leaving only the two interlopers standing. The pair shared a glance between one another, before turning their attention to the gathered crowd of onlookers. The taller of the two allowed his earthen gauntlets to dissipate from his grasp, just as another flash of light emanated before the stout soldier with the dual blades; it was the telltale sign of a protective energy barrier dissolving. What tension already hung in the air following the battle's conclusion had thickened to an entirely new threshold; not a one among the SeeDs around Squall dared so much as breathe. The smaller of the two dropped the glaives without reservation, and strode forward to the edge of the stage, appearing unfazed by the platoon of armed operatives tracking their every move. The soldier reached up to grasp hold of their visored helmet, and with nary a pause to savor the suspense, hoisted it upward to reveal their identity.

"Booyaka!"

Instantly, Squall felt a sensation of relief unlike any he had ever known wash over him. That the girl standing atop the platform, proudly beaming as she belted her victory cry could elicit such an emotional response from him was unthinkable. From the very moment he had literally bumped into her in the Garden atrium, he had regarded her as nothing but a nuisance he desperately longed to be rid of. The discovery of her illegitimate Guardian Force and the deception she had engaged in to keep it a secret had only furthered his dislike for her, to speak nothing of the newfound distrust it brought. And yet, try as he might, the corners of his mouth instinctively and contentedly curled upward.

"Selphie!" Rinoa shrieked her name from behind him.

He turned back, only for her to dash on by and through the gathering of bewildered SeeDs at breakneck speed. Without thinking, he was on her heels the very next moment. The crowd, now buzzing and hooting with exhilaration, parted at Rinoa's behest, clearing a path for him to follow in her footsteps. As he neared the front, he noticed Xu as she relieved herself from her position and began to make her way after her. He reached the commandant's side just as Rinoa cleared the top step, meeting Selphie in an excited embrace. The second soldier stepped forward as he and Xu started up, lifting off his helmet to reveal the exact head of spiked blonde hair Squall had hoped he would see beneath.

"Hey!" Zell called to him, his eyes alight with excitement. "Long time no see, huh? Man, are you guys a sight for sore eyes."

"It's great to see you, too," Squall replied candidly as he took the stage. "And I'm guessing those sniper shots from before were…?"

"Yup, he'll be right down," he confirmed as Rinoa released her hold on Selphie and darted over to offer him a hug in turn.

"Did'ya miss us, Squall?" the brown-haired girl giggled with a radiant smile. "Were you worried?"

"Of course I was," he affirmed. "When the missiles showed up, I was sure you'd been discovered. How did you wind up all the way out here, anyway?"

"We oughta be asking you the same thing!" Zell quipped as he and Rinoa parted. "And since when the hell can the Garden _move_!?"

"It's a long story on both ends, I'm sure," Xu interjected herself into the reunion. "Nevertheless, it's good to see that you're both still in one piece. You've done a fine job here today, at the very least."

"Don't go fergettin' 'bout _me_ down here, sugar!"

Squall did not have to turn his head to know who had made the comment. The familiar twangy inflection, previously so irksome to him, suddenly came to him as the sweetest melody to grace his ears. He swiveled his eyes to face its source, meeting the sharpshooter's sharp, chiseled features staring back up at him. The cowboy hat was missing, having been abandoned in exchange for the anonymity of a Galbadian helmet. The milling congregation beside him bristled at his approach, likely still wary of the enemy uniform this unfamiliar man wore; it was to his benefit that he had made his way down armed with nothing but a slick grin.

"And who exactly are you, _sir_?" Xu irately acknowledged the comment.

"A real character," Squall assured her as Irvine started up the steps. "But a damn fine marksman."

Rinoa intercepted him as he came to the top and thrust herself against him for yet another embrace. Noting the clatter of gunfire from the town's outer rim had subsided, Squall stared out over the heads of the gathered SeeDs in the interim, casting his eyes toward the height of the solar array. An additional detachment of Garden operatives had begun to descend the set of stairs to the north, led onward by another familiar head of blonde hair. He could perfectly imagine the relief Quistis would feel to know that their comrades left behind in Galbadia had indeed survived. It was the very same way he felt now, surrounded again by those he thought he had sent to their deaths. With her imminent arrival on the scene, the coalition of six would be fully reunited.

 _Everything's… alright after all…_

"Ahem!" came a sudden hoarse clearing of the throat.

Squall abruptly spun back around to face the house from whence the grunt had originated, to see an elderly couple emerge from the doorway. The man at the fore was outfitted in a patterned khaki shirt atop plain green trousers, sporting a head of dark shoulder-length hair with noticeable streaks of grey. The woman following after him was of a similarly plain fashion; fading blonde hair with a simple purple blouse and beige jeans trailing down to her muted brown heels. For what Squall presumed were the mayor of Fisherman's Horizon and his wife, their wardrobe presented nothing at all to differentiate themselves from the common folk.

"Am I to assume it's finally safe for us to come out?" the man spoke with his eyes trained to Zell.

"Oh!" the young man snapped to attention. "Yes, of course, sir! Thank you very much for your cooperation. We've managed to secure the solar array, and the rest of our forces should be mopping up the remaining Galbadian troops in town."

"I can see that," he muttered, sweeping his gaze across the platform strewn with bludgeoned and beaten infantry.

"There's no need to thank us, sir," Xu formally recited, stepping forward to act as the Garden's diplomat. "Commandant Adrastia of SeeD, at your service."

"Mayor Dobe," he introduced himself in return. "But please, young miss… do not misunderstand me. I'm not thanking you. I simply wish to know when it is you intend on leaving."

The bluntness of the remark struck Squall with greater force than he could have anticipated. Evidently, it was the same for every other Garden operative in the vicinity. All fell silent at the mayor's words, even as Quistis' platoon arrived at the basin's nadir moments later, coming to a halt behind the previously murmuring crowd clustered around the platform. None had been prepared for such a seemingly ungrateful reply out of the man.

"Y-yes, sir," Xu stammered with a deep bow. "I'd like to sincerely apologize on behalf of our navigation crew for the damage we caused to your outer wall."

"And the _rest_ of my town, I would assume?" he grumbled without regard for the apology.

"Yes, of course, sir. We only just discovered that our Garden is capable of mobility. The base technology is quite archaic and in desperate need of proper servicing, which we believe is why we failed to come to a stop in time. In addition, our supply of food is beginning to dwindle. With your permission, sir… we would ask you to please allow us to stay docked in the harbor until we have finished our repair efforts and restocking."

Silence again enveloped the heart of the solar array, Xu remaining hunched forward in deference all the while. Dobe shared a brief sideways glance with his wife, her own wrinkled face showing obvious apprehension at the request. Squall privately clung to the hope that the two would find the kindness to repay them for the liberation of Fisherman's Horizon, but prepared for the worst all the same.

"I will speak with our technicians – presuming they are still alive – and have them assist you with your repairs," he responded after a long pause. "As for your shortage of food, and need to resupply… I'm afraid that is something I cannot abide."

"Why not!?" Selphie blurted out, appearing to either not grasp or not care for the delicacy of the conversation.

"Is it not obvious?" Dobe rhetorically mused. "How do you think we manage to sustain ourselves while staying so far removed from civilization? These waters have kept our little town well fed for more than fifty years, and we have taken great pains to ensure the ecosystem here stays viable for our needs. You can't honestly expect us to just allow your army to start fishing our port dry."

"We would only require enough to keep us fed for a few more days," Xu attempted to negotiate.

"Even that may be too much for us to allow. I'm positive that the number of you aboard your vessel vastly exceeds our own population. Especially now with…"

The mayor trailed off, his eyes veering away from the commandant and panning all across the solar array. Squall followed his field of vision, once again taking in the silhouettes of fallen townspeople and soldiers alike lining the stairways. Although the body count was nowhere close to what he had witnessed on the shores of Dollet one month before, such loss of life was not something to be so easily brushed aside.

"I understand," Xu finally conceded. "I'll pass this information onto the headmaster. Regardless, thank you very much for offering your people's assistance with the repairs."

"So long as it helps you all on your way sooner rather than later," he coldly replied, turning away back toward the house with his wife. "Good day."

 _What a crotchety old asshole…_

"Excuse me!"

Squall instantly craned his neck over to face Rinoa, staring daggers at the girl for fear she was about to voice the very opinion he dared not speak aloud.

"We're all very sorry for what's happened here today," she began. "But speaking for myself, I _really_ don't appreciate the attitude you've been showing her. Why is it that you want us gone so badly?"

Virtually every other Garden operative on the platform went wide-eyed at her interjection. Squall followed suit, feeling his jaw fall to earth of its own accord.

 _Please just keep your mouth shut! They obviously have their reasons. Who cares? You're just going to screw up what little goodwill we already have with them!_

"Very well," Dobe started in an irritable tone, turning back to face her. "The long and short of it is that military organizations of any kind are not welcome here in Fisherman's Horizon. The very nature of your trade flies in direct defiance of our principles. Violence only begets violence, as we have seen so very clearly today. We do not aspire to hold any affiliation whatsoever with your mercenary ilk. This town was founded on the belief that any problem, large or small can be settled with peaceful discussion."

"And how did that work out for you with Galbadia?" Rinoa shot back. "SeeD just _saved_ you and your people from having your way of life snuffed out. The least you could do is show a bit of gratitude instead of festering like a stubborn jacka-"

"Rinoa!"

Quistis suddenly jumped in from behind, placing her hand firmly on the girl's shoulder. Squall had been so taken aback by her words, that he had not even taken notice of his former instructor having climbed the stairs up to the platform. While he shared her sentiments to a tee, he would never have dared to speak them aloud in such a brash manner. Her apparent lack of a filter had all but certainly sullied their chances of receiving any assistance with the necessary repairs.

"Gratitude!?" the mayor snapped, his wrinkled features turning fierce as he stormed over to her. "Be grateful to an organization like _yours?_ An army formed for the sole purpose of profiteering off of war? The absolute nerve! Don't try to act like you've done us some noble deed by saving us. At the end of the day, all you lot care about is how much money you can squeeze out of every conflict."

"That's not true!"

Once again, all eyes fell upon one person standing on the stage. Squall's own momentarily darted every which way, until the realization fully sunk in that the voice had been his. He froze as he was placed on the spot, wondering what could have possessed him to speak out in Rinoa's defense.

"It's… it's not all about the money to us," he eked out, fighting to keep himself composed. "That's not what SeeD was established for."

"Oh?" Dobe questioned, his focus now directed squarely to him. "Is that so? Then please, tell me. What _is_ it all about?"

Squall's tongue at once became leaden. His mind raced frantically for something, anything to say that would possibly appease him. He knew full well that SeeD's mercenary stature had only come into being through Norg's stranglehold on the Garden. He understood the truth of the matter, that the organization had been established by Headmaster Cid and his now estranged wife to prepare for the coming of any sorceress seeking to follow in Adel's footsteps. And yet, as he sucked in a breath through his nose to calm himself, such distinctions were rendered meaningless, and he realized the only thing that truly mattered was what SeeD meant to him, personally.

For what purpose did he fight? Why had he made the choice to commit himself to a life fraught with such bloodshed? Though a single reason may have led Cid and Edea to found the organization so long ago, it had not been the one which had kept him pushing onward for so many years. Indeed, he understood the reason was different for each and every one among them. He could only share his own perspective of what it was SeeD stood for, or rather, what it was he stood for as a SeeD.

 _Here goes nothing…_

"It's hard for me to explain… and maybe I'm not the best one to be explaining it to begin with, but… I also wish everything could be settled without resorting to violence, just like you're preaching. And that there would be no need for battles like this to happen. That we could settle everything with discussion, and come to a mutual understanding with each other. The problem is that there are times when people just aren't willing to listen, making that kind of conversation and negotiation impossible. And it's at times like those, when fighting becomes unavoidable, that we must speak with our actions rather than our words. Especially when innocent lives are at stake, and our opponents are beyond reasoning with, like today. It's an unfortunate reality, but it's one that we can't just pretend doesn't exist. That's why I fight… why _we_ fight, and why we'll continue to fight. We lay down our lives today, in the hope that future generations will learn from our human mistakes, and come to work their differences out peacefully."

Nary a breath could be heard in the stark silence as Squall brought his speech to a close. He at last averted his stare from Dobe's to glance around; from Rinoa, to Quistis, Selphie, Irvine, Zell and Xu, every one of his comrades kept their eyes intensely locked to him with what appeared to be awe.

"T-that's all I have to say," he concluded, turning on his heel. "You don't have to respect what we do, or even give us your thanks, but… I just wish you could be a little more understanding about who we are. We're not just a bunch of warmongers. I hope you understand someday. I think the world needs both people like you and us. Thank you again for your help. Good-bye."

He began across the stage, his eyes downcast and focused on the stairs leading to the ground. He had scarcely reached the top step before the silence was shattered by a single clap. The sudden crack came without warning, prompting Squall to bolt up for fear of it being a gunshot. The next moment, the clapping doubled, then quadrupled, exponentially swelling in volume among the gathered audience of SeeDs standing before the platform. Within the span of two seconds, the light applause became a full-blown standing ovation, replete with whistles and gratuitous hollering aplenty.

Squall stood dumbfounded upon the stairs, his face undoubtedly flush with embarrassment in the face of such acclaim. He turned back to those gathered on the platform, to find his comrades, and even the commandant had joined in, all among them beaming with pride. Only the mayor and his wife had abstained, both hobbling back into their house with what appeared to be embarrassment comparable to his own. It had not been his intention to cause such a scene, the applause finally dying down only once the door had shut behind them.

"Now that's what I call havin' somethin' between yer legs," Irvine piped up as he approached. With a friendly pat on Squall's shoulder, he promptly descended the steps and made his way around the still bustling crowd without waiting for a proper order of dismissal. It came only moments later as Xu instructed all present to begin clearing the area of bodies and wreckage. The crowd began to disperse on command, trailing back up the various staircases lined with carnage to undertake their duty.

"That was quite the inspirational speech," she addressed him as she strode over to his side. "Probably the single greatest morale boost someone could have given the troops right now."

"It was just something I needed to get off my chest," Squall modestly accepted the praise. "Whether or not it made any difference in how he sees us."

"I see," the commandant mused as she descended. "Still, don't be surprised if you suddenly find yourself gaining a reputation around the Garden. In fact… well, let's just say I'd bet on it if I were you."

 _Why don't I like the sound of that?_

"Welp," Zell groaned as he stretched. "I can't wait to finally get outta this uniform and back into my own clothes."

"Tell me about it," Selphie agreed. "Oh, and by the way, nice new threads, Rinoa! Looking to join up?"

"Sorta, kinda," the girl replied. "It's more just because my old clothes got so torn up. It's a real pain having just the one set, though."

"I could give you my old cadet uniform if you want! It's barely been worn."

"I think we ought to get started on tidying things up around here," Quistis interrupted as she bent down to hoist up a Galbadian soldier's limp body. "Lets get them piled up over on that side for now."

The remaining four hastily complied, spreading out across the platform to wherever they could be of immediate use. Squall paced several steps to the nearest infantryman and lifted him up with both hands from beneath his underarms. A moment later, the feet were elevated courtesy of Rinoa opposite him.

"You've… really changed," she spoke softly as they carried the soldier together across the stage. "I never would have imagined the mercenary I knew back in Timber making a speech like that."

"It's the truth," he insisted. "I don't take pleasure in any of this. I never have, and anyone who would has to be a lunatic."

* * *

" _I love battles. The scent of scorched earth, the roaring sound of gunfire, the sheer visceral energy between you and your enemy as you strike him down… I live for that shit."_

* * *

 _That's the dividing line between us… the one I'll never cross…_

"Well, it's a day full of surprises, then," Rinoa replied as they tossed the body over the edge of the platform and onto the makeshift pile below. "You looked really happy to see the others were okay."

"What's surprising about that?" he raised his eyebrow to her. "I was the one who grouped them together and sent them off to the missile base. Their safety was my responsibility."

"But that's not all, is it? They might be your comrades, or your subordinates, or whatever they are to you, officially. But moreover, they're your friends, and you know it. And it was… refreshing to see you act so honestly."

Squall turned his head back across the platform to Zell and Selphie, seeing the pair struggling to haul a bulky red Galbadian commander to the drop-off pile. The duo had irritated and infuriated him numerous times over the course of their tenure together, to speak nothing of the wisecracking sharpshooter who had taken off of his own accord. And yet, he could not deny the pangs of melancholy he had felt for the past two weeks whenever he had stopped to consider their ultimate fate.

 _Friends, huh?_

"Hey, Squall," Rinoa addressed him again. "Would you have been that worried about me, too? You know, if you'd sent _me_ along with them instead?"

"It never would have come to that," he explained, keeping his eyes trained to his squadmates. "It would have been too dangerous to send you out there. When I was deciding on the teams, your safety was my top priority, and as long as you were teamed up with me, I'd be able to see to that myself."

It was only as he swiveled his head back to her that he realized the implications of what he had just said. The surprised expression on her face was proof that they had not been lost on her, either. His mind went numb just as a bottomless pit suddenly formed in his stomach.

"You… really care that much?"

"I… well, what I mean is… you know, you were my employer, and I-"

"Oh my gosh, you're turning red!" she chuckled, keeling forward as she clutched her sides in hilarity. Squall stood still in disbelief, utterly mortified and unable to muster a response. "You are so _cute_ , taking it so seriously."

"What's so funny?" Zell asked unassumingly as he and Selphie finally reached them bearing their hefty load.

"Nothing," Squall spat as he frantically spun on his heel and briskly walked away from his snickering student. "Quit messing around! We've got work to do."


	34. Chapter 12 - The Garden Festival

12

 **CHAPTER 12 – THE GARDEN FESTIVAL**

The fast setting sun had fallen to just over the outer wall's edge by the time clean-up had effectively concluded. For hours on end, Squall had toiled relentlessly in the company of his comrades, gathering every last fallen soldier, civilian and firearm scattered to and fro across the solar array's diameter. Without any alternative method of ascent out of the gargantuan divot other than the staircases, the procedure of manually hauling the casualties up and out had been a tedious and grueling affair. By the time he and his familiar entourage of four had descended from the central platform, he had elected to split off from them, instead putting his hands to use wherever else he could. It was not long before he had come to regret the decision; with each successive SeeD he lent his assistance to came another round of congratulations for the impromptu speech he had given. The constant out-pour of praise from every direction irritated him to no end, leading him to further ruminate on Xu's prior mention of his reputation going forward.

All the while, he struggled to fathom just what had come over him to make such a bold and uncharacteristic stand against the mayor. He considered if perhaps the long string of days spent in Rinoa's company had inadvertently begun to foster a similar lack of restraint and tact in him. Was it possible that for what discipline he had sought to instill in her during training, a similar degree of her own rebelliousness had begun to rub off on him? No matter the cause, Squall knew such brashness was inexcusable in the field. He had momentarily allowed his tongue to step out of line with his better judgment on pure instinct, a mistake that could have just as easily caused their license of stay to be revoked. That the mayor and his wife had yet to re-emerge from their home to tell them so was the only assurance otherwise, and far from a guarantee.

As he finally surmounted the solar array's lip and peered out over the makeshift streets roughly fifty feet below, he could see the efforts of those assigned to the town proper had not gone to waste. SeeDs and civilians alike cautiously maneuvered about, neither faction daring to encroach too far into the vicinity of the other. Though the railroad tracks they walked upon were still riddled with structural damage that would likely require weeks to fully assess, the casualties had likewise been swept away in the intervening time. So far removed from natural soil of any kind, Squall could safely assume water burial to be Fisherman's Horizon's customary funerary procedure, though had no idea if there existed a designated drop point for such a purpose further along the bridge. Surely the townspeople, ever environmentally acute as they were, would never stoop to disposing of their dead in the local waters which kept them sustained.

He started down the right hand path leading to sea level, finally turning his gaze to the towering Garden docked immediately by the roadside. The familiar blue and silver outer shell remained as stunning as he had ever seen it in the coming twilight, casting a massive shadow over the town's eastern perimeter. Averting his eyes to the second level from whence he had deployed, a pair of large maintenance crane platforms had been erected on either side of the academy's fore. The nearest was presently ascending to the port-side emergency exit hatch, carrying a small contingent of SeeDs upward for re-entry. Feeling the day's fatigue weighing heavily on his aching back, Squall picked up the pace as he neared the bottom of the curving slope. At that moment, he cared for nothing but to hastily devour his sparse evening ration, followed by an early retreat to his dorm.

"'Bout time one o' you guys showed up!"

He stopped in his tracks and craned his neck in the direction of the call. A lone man stood by casually in the shadow cast by the looming academy, his back propped up against one of the many support beams encircling the central structure. Despite the instantly recognizable accent and wavy brown locks, his attire momentarily kept Squall from making a positive identification. He had shed the appropriated Galbadian uniform for an unbuttoned tan plaid shirt hanging open atop his white undershirt. A pair of blue jeans trailed down to his black boots, which were seemingly the only article of clothing to be carried over from the military facade. He could have easily fit the bill for a local resident were it not for the shotgun holstered at his side, hanging precipitously from the bullet belt fastened around his waist.

"Where did you get those?" Squall bluntly asked him.

"Offa the best lookin' stiff I could find," Irvine replied candidly, removing his back from the beam as he began over to him. "Yer crazy if ya think I'm gonna go walkin' around here in that uniform. Sure took yer sweet time gettin' on down here."

"Maybe if _someone_ had stayed to help with the clean-up," Squall irately shot back. "Is there something you want?"

"Jus' somebody to vouch fer my identity," the sharpshooter calmly spoke, swiveling his eyes toward the now descending crane platform. "I'm no student, and I'm sure as hell not passin' fer a civie 'round here with this puppy at my side. So what'dya say? Any chance ya can help me get a room?"

Squall sighed inwardly, but begrudgingly motioned for him to follow as he started back along the tracks. He had been heading for the Garden anyway, and figured a brief detour up to the Headmaster's Office to help get Irvine settled would be simple enough to manage. The two spoke not a word as they traversed the oncoming pedestrian traffic, Squall taking note of the people's still fearful expressions as the sight of his gunblade prompted them to quickly move out of his way. They reached the crane moments after the railed platform touched back down on the ground, and stepped aboard after the three operatives who had been in waiting before their arrival on the scene.

"What happened out there?" Squall finally broke the silence, relegating himself to one of the four corners. "I was sure you three had been caught."

"Well, the short version is we were," Irvine explained, paying little heed to the looks being given to him by the other SeeDs in their midst. "And we jus' barely got outta it by the skin o' our teeth."

"And the long version?" Squall egged him on to elaborate as the crane's hydraulics kicked in and the platform jerked into motion.

"We showed up jus' after they fired on Trabia, an' you'd better believe that set Selphie off. We infiltrated the base, cut the power, and then kinda split up to see what else we could do to slow 'em down."

"What do you mean, you _split up_?" Squall abruptly cut in.

"I mean we went our separate ways," Irvine obliviously clarified. "Selphie suggested we'd catch a lot more attention if we jus' kept walkin' around joined at the hip. I wasn't too keen on it myself, but… well, with how fired up she was, I wasn't gonna waste my time tryin' to argue."

Squall's heart sunk at the unexpected turn of events that had taken place unbeknownst to him. In the wake of having discovered Selphie's deception, he had explicitly told Zell to keep an eye trained to her at all times. To now learn that his wishes had gone completely ignored did nothing to ease his suspicion of the girl in question. In the event that she were indeed an agent of Galbadia, there was no telling the sort of machinations she could have set in motion in the time she had been allowed to roam the base without surveillance. He sincerely hoped his fears to be completely unfounded, as her unwaveringly cheery and earnest nature seemed to suggest. That Irvine and Zell were still alive at all should have been reason enough to assume so, and yet the existence of the counterfeit Guardian Force remained an issue he could not simply hand-wave away.

"It was Zell who got our cover blown," Irvine went on as the lift continued to rise. "We managed to spring him free, but they fired the missiles. Selphie went berserk and brought the whole place crumbling down on our heads. We barely made it up topside, and that's about where she went catatonic…"

* * *

"I can't…" she sobbed in a broken voice. "I just… I don't know what to do anymore! It's over… everything's over… Dad… I really… really wanted to see you again… but it was all for nothing… I'm…"

Irvine held fast to Selphie's shoulder just as Zell did her wrist whilst she proceeded to break down, only to have both of their grips forcibly shaken free by the monstrous blast that followed. The ground beneath his feet shook violently, forcing him to redirect his hand to the concrete to stabilize himself. He raised his head up the next moment, and quickly craned his neck backward to follow Zell's line of sight. Even with the infrared shielding provided by his helmet's visor, the intensity of the flames billowing from the ignited fuel tank across the compound was nearly blinding. The blaze was quick to spread, soon consuming all in its immediate vicinity as it slithered onward toward the central complex. Time slowed to a crawl as the adrenaline fired through his veins. He recognized that with each second wasted, any possibility of their escape slipped further out of reach.

He scanned the immediate area frantically, his eyes darting every which way within the span of what must have only been two seconds. The transport they had taken in had been utterly demolished, its smoldering remains resting beside the obliterated chain link fence where they had left it, in the company of a dozen or so armored iron-clad tanks. A quick scan further along the trail of wreckage led his gaze to a pair parked just inside the compound entryway, which from a distance appeared still fit to function. Tunnel vision instantly set in, his focus unwavering from what at that very moment appeared to be their only hope for salvation. The next earth-shattering tremor from behind was as a starting gun to his ears. He promptly swept the distraught Selphie up into his arms without a second thought, the severed halves of her nunchaku falling from her hands as he did so, and started blazing a trail across the divide.

The ensuing racket of explosions and crumbling architecture continued unabated all the while. Irvine dared not look back for a moment, even to assure himself that Zell had broken free from his own transfixed stare and begun to follow behind. Only as he circled to the back of the tank and slowed before the rear entry hatch did he catch sight of the blonde head of hair rounding the corner after him. He threw open the latch with one hand and ducked inside, setting Selphie down in the nearest open seat.

"Get her buckled up!" he shouted back to Zell as he raced forward into the cockpit. Though Irvine had no prior first-hand experience piloting this particular model of transport, his many lectures at Galbadia Garden had included a seminar dedicated entirely to the operational procedures of virtually every military vehicle in the army's reserve. He hastily plopped himself into the driver's seat, buckled his own safety belt, and engaged the ignition with a single button press. The six turbine engines arrayed on either side of the tank whirred to life, barely discernible against the cataclysmic sonic backdrop.

"Hold on to something!" he hollered back, flooring the accelerator. The iron-clad abruptly lurched forward on command, Irvine veering sharply to the left so as to direct it toward the open gateway. Its treads easily surmounted what fallen debris and corpses alike impeded its path, albeit at a laborious pace. For as bulky as the artillery was, he could not reasonably expect it to move any faster, no matter how desperately he stomped on the gas pedal. The ground shook as the ongoing explosions intensified, flames billowing seemingly from all sides through the narrow front view-port. The compound entrance drew ever closer, the way ahead cleared for them courtesy of Zell's Guardian Force. All that mattered now was the ever shrinking window of opportunity to reach it.

 _C'mon, move!_

The vehicle's nose had just barely cleared the archway when the largest eruption of all sounded from behind. Instantly, Irvine's frenzied demand for an increase in speed was answered tenfold. In that moment, he recalled the manner in which they had made their daring escape from the D-District Prison that very same morning, when they had shot forth from the hangar bay with the dual explosions of two RPGs licking at their rear tires. He preemptively let go of the steering controls, instinctively knowing the blast to follow would be of another magnitude entirely. He gripped hard on the chair's armrests, held in place only by his safety belt as the iron-clad was thrust forward to meet the awaiting desert plains, and began to tumble. Heaven and earth switched positions roughly a dozen times within the span of mere seconds, leaving Irvine in a state of extreme disorientation and nausea as he was violently jerked every which way. Steel sickeningly screeched and crunched all the while, serving to render the cries of panic to his rear virtually unintelligible.

After what felt like a long and torturous eternity, the ruined iron-clad finally wobbled to a rest upside down. His vision dazed and spinning, Irvine fumbled all about his body with one hand for the button to release his safety belt. He found it after a moment, only to be inelegantly dropped headfirst onto the transport's roof as it came free. With the brunt of the impact taken by his helmet, he quickly righted himself and scanned his eyes over the demolished cockpit, finding his shotgun resting several feet from his side. He seized the weapon, re-holstered it, and turned his attention to his comrades hanging upside down from their own seats to his rear. He reached up to assist Zell, whose head was afforded no protection from a similar fall on account of his helmet having been confiscated following his capture. The next moment, a torrent of vomit came spewing out of his gullet, splattering all over Irvine's boots before he could step back.

"S-sorry," he groaned as the last of the bile trickled from his lips to the floor.

Irvine did not respond, and simply reached up to unlatch his belt for him. That they had survived at all was a feat too miraculous for him to become hung up on such a thing. Once Zell was safely on the ground, taking great pains to maneuver his feet from touching down on the puddle, the pair proceeded over to Selphie. The girl spoke not a word as they helped her down, appearing neither on the verge of throwing up, nor any more responsive than she had been previously. She absentmindedly swiveled her visor back and forth between the two of them, before her gaze finally settled upon her own feet. Irvine opened his mouth to offer some form of encouragement, but stopped as he realized there was nothing he could possibly say to console her.

In the span of a single day, she had been rendered helpless to avert the destruction of both her former and current homes, and very likely the deaths of many she held dear. Where Balamb Garden was concerned, they could only hope that they had managed to buy Squall's team enough time to return and organize an evacuation. Any ability to influence the situation was now completely out of their hands. For the time being, they could do nothing but seek to find some manner of passage back to civilization. With aching body and heavy heart, he maneuvered himself to the iron-clad's rear, threw open the hatch, and took the first step out onto the wreckage-strewn, smog-covered sands of the desert.

* * *

"After that, we jus' started walkin'," Irvine continued as he stepped through the emergency exit and into the second floor corridor. "Didn't really have much of a clue where we were headin', though. The smog was so dense, ya couldn't see the stars to figure out where north was. The next day we got picked up by the procession headin' fer this place. I loaned my old helmet to Zell – figured no one'd be lookin' fer _my_ face – an' we passed ourselves off as a few survivors. An' here I figured they'd have the decency to ship us back to Deling City on account o' what we'd jus' been through."

"No such luck, huh?" Squall presumed, turning to lead the way along the hall.

"Nope. They had their orders, an' it wasn't like we were missin' limbs or anythin'. So, we made our way down an' 'round the coast to Timber, dropped off a buncha troops there, an' then started over the bridge. The three o' us jus' stuck together through it all. Me an' Zell eventually started tryin' to come up with some ideas of how to give 'em the slip. An' Selphie… well, she just kept to herself the whole time. Wouldn't say a word to anyone. Before, back on the stage… that was the first time I've seen her actin' like her usual self in the last two weeks."

Squall pondered over the details of the sharpshooter's account as they crossed the connecting walkway to the central pillar and stepped aboard the elevator. That Selphie had supposedly shown such genuine remorse was the most encouraging sign he had to go off of to assume she held no ulterior motive after all. Indeed, there could have been a multitude of explanations for how she had gotten a hold of her Guardian Force sphere; that it happened to bear the Galbadian insignia as opposed to SeeD's was the only definitive lead he had been provided. Short of confronting her about it directly, there was no way to know for sure just how it had come into her possession. Ultimately, it was the sphere's existence itself which perturbed him the most, and without any idea as to the circumstances of its creation, he had reasonably assumed it to have come directly from the army. Assuming it had however, the question was then raised as to why they had never received reports of Galbadia having begun supplying its own soldiers with the technology.

 _None of this makes any sense…_

He brushed the matter aside as the lift reached the twentieth floor, and stepped out into the central antechamber with Irvine in tow. He led the way into the hall, taking note of the congregation of SeeDs and who he assumed to be the technicians of Fisherman's Horizon gathered atop the control center, and cut diagonally across the red carpeting to the Headmaster's Office. He rapped on the door twice, and waited several seconds until it swung ajar. To his surprise, it was not Cid standing on the opposite side of the frame.

"Excellent timing as usual," Xu muttered after a brief pause. "We were actually just about to send out a call over the intercom for you."

 _Just perfect… what did I do, now?_

"I'm only here to help get him settled," Squall responded, gesturing to Irvine at his side. "He's going to need a room. Is the headmaster in?"

His question was promptly answered as Cid rounded the corner to peer over the commandant's shoulder. As his bespectacled eyes trailed away from Squall to his companion, they suddenly widened with surprise.

"Irvine!" he blurted out, motioning with one hand for Xu to clear the doorframe. She obliged, allowing the elderly man to pass on by and take the sharpshooter's hand in his own.

"It's good to see you well after so long, sir," he greeted him as they shook. "And… well, my condolences about everything. I know the situation must be harder on you than anyone else."

Beyond the peculiarity of Irvine's enunciation suddenly becoming tighter and more formal, that he could speak to Cid with such a degree of implied familiarity was what truly caught Squall off guard. That his words suggested he did in fact know of Edea's identity was less surprising with the benefit of hindsight, but all the same reminded him that Selphie was not the only enigma within his immediate circle of comrades.

"Thank you," Cid graciously accepted. "But I'm fine, really. More importantly, how did you make your way out here?"

"It's a long story, but for the moment I'd be very appreciative if you could arrange for me to have a place to sleep in the dorms."

"Of course," the kindly man assured him. "But before that… could you please wait out here for just a few moments? There's something Xu and I would like to discuss with Squall in private."

A lump caught in Squall's throat at the mention of his name. He understood that a private meeting with the headmaster and commandant alone could only mean trouble for his standing as a SeeD. Was this in some way related to his stand-off with the mayor? Surely it had to be to have come so quickly afterward. His mind swirled in confusion as he obligingly stepped into the office, speculating as to just what kind of punishment he would be faced with. Xu closed the door behind him as Cid retreated to his mahogany desk by the window.

"Please," the headmaster began calmly, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "Have a seat."

Squall obeyed the formality as though it were a direct order from his superior officer, sinking into the plush cushioning just as his heart did into his stomach.

"There's no need to be anxious," Cid reassured him as Xu circled around to stand by the side of the desk. "You haven't done anything wrong. Quite the contrary, in fact. I dare say yours is a case without precedent in the history of this organization."

"I don't understand, sir," Squall eked out, the heavy weight refusing to relieve itself from his shoulders.

"Of course not," the man acceded. "Xu, perhaps you'd like to be the one to explain for him?"

Squall shifted his gaze to the commandant, and briefly noticed her face take on a fleeting expression of surprise for having been placed on the spot. Like a mirage, it vanished a split-second later, her features reverting to their stoic norm.

"As you might be aware, this is my third and final year acting as commandant," she began. "And that it's customary for each outgoing recipient of the title to name a successor well in advance, so as to offer them preparatory training and guidance for when it comes time to pass the torch."

"You _can't_ be serious."

Squall's eyes bulged at the ludicrous prospect, his mind utterly dumbfounded. He was so beside himself at the notion that it could be anything but an elaborate joke that it took him a moment to realize he had once again unwittingly spoken his thoughts aloud.

"Indeed, it would make you the youngest of the five operatives to ever hold the rank by two years," Headmaster Cid interjected. "But as I said, yours is a very unique case. You have accomplished more in a single month than many operatives could hope to across their entire careers."

Squall remained completely mute, knowing he could not possibly muster an argument against the man in his present state of bafflement even if he wished to.

"Traditionally, the three key components to look for when determining a potential successor are bravery, wit, and the ability to inspire confidence in one's subordinates," Xu continued in his stead. "You proved your bravery to me the day you returned from Galbadia to save us all from the missiles. And from what Quistis told me about the way in which you managed to outsmart Norg, it seems you've got wit to spare. And now today, after that speech… well, I already told you what I thought, and I stand by it. Despite your relative inexperience in the field, you've proven yourself to be the most promising candidate I could hope for."

"S-surely there has to be someone else," he finally spoke up, instinctively rising up out of his chair. "Someone with that kind of experience under their belt already. What about Quistis? She'd be a perfect fit for that kind of position."

"That's exactly what I thought as well," Xu conceded. "It's precisely why I signed on to oversee the squad accompanying yours for the Dollet field exam. That was her chance to show the kind of leadership qualities I was looking for, but… well, you already know what happened there. Even with Norg's administration gone, there's simply no way I can offer this position to her when she's freshly coming off of a demotion. It could be too easily construed as playing favorites."

Squall was utterly gobsmacked. He had understood Xu's presence that morning had been for the purpose of evaluating his instructor, but could never have guessed just how important it could have potentially been for her advancement going forward. A pang of guilt shot through him at the realization, only now fully understanding just what he had been complicit in with following Seifer in his desertion.

"I'll readily admit that I wasn't very keen on you after what happened that day," she went on. "But you've proved your mettle sufficiently, and already shown yourself to be capable of commanding this army's respect. And so, after a thorough discussion with the headmaster, I've decided to officially name you my successor."

"With all due respect… I can't," Squall stammered, feeling as though his head were on the verge of rupturing. "I'm just not ready for this level of responsibility."

"Of course, you aren't," Cid inserted himself into the conversation again. "Not yet, anyway. No one's expecting you to be an experienced leader right out of the gate. That's why it's customary for each commandant to choose their successor a year in advance, to allow for sufficient training before taking up the position. It was no different for Xu, when she was named by her predecessor three years ago. Regardless, it will have to wait until the repairs are finished and we've tied up our current business with Fisherman's Horizon. Until then, feel free to take your time to think it over. I'm expecting great things from you, Squall. You're dismissed."

 _I can't believe this…_

Squall stood immobile for several moments, stunned beyond all measure by the sudden promotion he had been afforded. Recognizing it to be far too much to process at once in his already exhausted state of mind, he wordlessly performed the SeeD salute to the two of them, and spun on his heel toward the door. He twisted the handle and pulled it ajar, finding Irvine standing immediately before him on the opposite side of the frame. His initial look of surprise instantly melted away into a slick grin as their eyes met, and he brought his hand around to give him a hearty slap on the shoulder.

"Congrats, chief!"

* * *

For the next several days following his promotion, Squall had largely kept to himself. What little time he did not spend secluded in his room consisted solely of eating in the cafeteria and practicing his form in the training center, the latter for the purpose of keeping his mind preoccupied more than anything else. His instruction of Rinoa had drawn to an abrupt halt since their arrival at Fisherman's Horizon, and neither had she come to him at any point to insist he continue. He could safely assume that Irvine had passed along the details of his new position to her and the rest of his comrades, and that she had simply figured he would be too busy to offer her any further training. It was a misunderstanding that suited him just fine; he was in no mood to associate with anyone for the time being.

Whenever he would exit his dorm to make his way about the Garden, his eyes remained perpetually locked to the floor. When in the cafeteria, he would take great pains to find the table furthest removed from his fellow students. In the midst of his training regimen, should another group happen upon him, he was always quick to vacate the immediate area. Above all else, he dared not venture back ashore, knowing too well the apprehensive stares he would be surely be met with from the townspeople. By the fourth day, he had ceased his daily round of the academy altogether, instead resigning himself to his room for a full twenty-four hours. No matter the incessant pangs of hunger from his stomach, the will to raise himself from his bed remained out of reach.

All the while, he reflected upon the events that had brought him to such a turning point in his life, and the uncertain future that lay ahead. Just as it was for him on the night of the inauguration ball, he felt no satisfaction despite achieving such a milestone. What ought to have been the single greatest accomplishment of his life instead carried a dread for him akin to a prison sentence. He had only passed the field exam just over a month prior, inadvertently sullying his own instructor's chances for the position he now held. Beyond the guilt eating away at him, it should have been obvious to everyone that he was completely unqualified, no matter what the commandant and headmaster might have said to the contrary. He had long since made it his mission to become entirely self-sufficient specifically to avoid such a level of responsibility.

The thought of resigning from SeeD altogether had crossed his mind several times. It seemed the only surefire way to rid himself of the burden of leadership, regardless of the cowardly light it would surely paint him in among the student body. Such a consequence did not particularly bother Squall, having never been one to become hung up on others' view of him. What truly frightened him, just as it had when Seifer had first asked him of his dream for the future, was where he would go next. His life at Balamb Garden was all he knew, and with the world presently on the verge of Edea's total conquest, there was simply no possibility for him to leave it all behind for a normal life. He would eventually find himself pressed into battle against Galbadia's forces again, whether or not he still bore the title of SeeD. These concerns hung over him like a heavy pall, day and night, rendering him paralyzed as he lay helplessly upon his bed.

On the evening of the fifth day, the second consecutively in which he had not left his room, a knock on the door came. Deep in the throes of depression and deprived of sustenance as he was, he made no effort to reply. Several more knocks followed, before the door finally creaked open. Squall could scarcely remember whether or not he had locked it in his state of exhaustion, and groggily turned over to see who it was.

"Hey," Rinoa greeted him with a hint of concern. "You okay? Me and the rest of the gang haven't seen you around in days."

"What do you want?" he weakly groaned in return.

"You look so down," she pitied him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. "Squall, what's wrong? Tell me."

"It's…" he started, his body feeling heavy as he fought to sit up.

"Yeah, yeah, 'none of your business', right?" Rinoa finished his thoughts for him. "Quistis was right on. You are an easy read. Come on, let's get you up and at it. We're going out for a night on the town."

"I'm not in the mood," he dismissed her.

"Let me guess," she sighed. "You're still hung up over the new promotion, right? Look, I can understand why you wouldn't be. You've had a lot put on your shoulders all of a sudden. But just lying around in bed doing nothing isn't going to make you feel any better. You need to get out and unwind a little. Plus… there's something important that I want to talk to you about. So, what do you say? I mean, come on, Squall, how old are you? You're still a teenager, right? Why don't you let yourself act like one for a change?"

Squall breathed a deep sigh in through his mouth, realizing she would likely never stop pestering him until he finally gave in. His ever rumbling stomach likewise begged him to accept her request, in the single-minded hope it would finally be sated after two full days without nourishment.

"Fine," he surrendered, achingly maneuvering his legs over the side of the bed to his waiting shoes. "I'll give it a shot."

"Yes!" Rinoa excitingly jumped up. "Then, let's get going."

He quickly laced his shoes, threw on his casual black jacket, and followed her out the door. They maneuvered their way through the dormitory halls at a leisurely pace, being about as fast as Squall could bring himself to move in his current condition. Upon reaching the atrium, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks; the massive nexus was completely empty, without a single cadet or SeeD present across its entire open expanse. Not believing his eyes, he quickly brought up his wristwatch to take note of the time. It presently displayed ' _20:14_ ', just after curfew for the junior classmen, but nearly three hours ahead of the academy-wide lights-out.

"Where is everybody?" he pondered aloud.

"Probably out on the town," Rinoa answered obliviously. "Come on, let's move it."

Squall apprehensively followed her lead to the elevators and stepped aboard, a new queasiness unrelated to hunger rapidly forming in his stomach. Something was amiss for the atrium to be devoid of any occupancy so early in the evening. The idea that the entire student body had taken to the town simultaneously was utterly ludicrous, especially when considering the tenuous relationship they currently held with the people of Fisherman's Horizon. As they stepped off onto the second level together and circled around to the front of the Garden, he realized the hall was likewise completely vacant, save for a single familiar face casually leaning beside the open emergency exit.

"So, she finally talked ya into it, huh?" Irvine chuckled as they approached.

"Into what?" Squall impatiently asked. "Where is everyone?"

"All in good time, buddy," he assured him as he relieved himself from the wall and strode forward to meet them. Suddenly, he slid his arm around Squall's neck and began walking him away from Rinoa, toward the door.

"Lookin' good together," he slyly whispered into his ear. "So like, I found this spot fer you two. Right near the stage. Check fer a ladder under the solar panels. I left a nudie mag there fer ya. Figured it might be good fer some… _inspiration_."

 _What the fuck!?_

"Jus' take it easy tonight, an' enjoy the show," he finished with a pat on the back.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Squall reeled away from his grasp. "What do you mean, 'show'?"

Irvine wordlessly directed his index finger out the hatch, prompting his eyes to follow. Instantly, a pair of arcing spotlights shooting out across the night sky caught his attention. The twin beacons swiveled and danced across the sea of stars, both appearing to be emanating from the center of the solar array. It was only then that Squall's ears picked up on the sound of a merry symphony carried on the wind.

"You're coming too, aren't you, Irvine?" Rinoa asked, paying no heed to Squall's stupefied stare.

"Yeah, I'll be right behind ya," he affirmed. "Jus' gotta work out my… 'battle plan', I guess you could call it."

"Will one of you two please tell me what's going on!?" Squall fumed, becoming increasingly irritable at having his questions go ignored.

"I'll fill you in you on the way," Rinoa spoke calmly, stepping forward through the hatch and onto the raised platform. "Come on, let's go."

Squall momentarily considered turning around on the spot and heading straight back to his dorm; it was abundantly clear that Rinoa had not been entirely forthcoming with him as to her intentions. Despite his discomfort however, the idea that the Garden's populace at large had gathered together in the center of town was too maddening for him to ignore. In dire need of an explanation, he begrudgingly stepped aboard the lift after her. She waved down to the technician manning the crane the next second, and they swiftly began to descend.

"Rinoa," he firmly addressed her. "What's going on? Why is everyone up there?"

"Well, after Irvine told us all about your promotion, Selphie really got fired up about it," she began. "She decided she wanted to put together something special for you. That, and apparently your Garden's annual festival was supposed to be coming up, anyway, and she really didn't want to see all her work from before going to waste. So, she and Irvine brought it up to Cid and the town's technicians, and asked if they'd be willing to help fix up the stage in the quad. They agreed, and even suggested holding it here in town instead. That way it could double as a celebration of the people's liberation from Galbadia, and maybe give them something to help take their minds off all that's happened."

"And they're holding it next to the _mayor's_ house!?" he flew off the chain. "The mayor who can't stand having us in his town!?"

"Oh, you might be surprised about that," she smiled as the platform touched down. "Why don't we head on up and have a look?"

Squall's legs broke into a brisk power-walk along the tracks, paying no heed as to whether Rinoa could comfortably match his pace. Any trace of hunger pangs had all but disappeared from his gut, his weary mental faculties too flabbergasted to process any other manner of bodily response. He could hardly believe that things had progressed so quickly in the short time he had kept himself isolated from the outside world. The music continued to swell in volume as he drew closer to the height of the central structure, and then finally took notice of the ring of townspeople and students alike gathered around the upper rim of the solar array. At last breaking into a full-on sprint, he dashed up the remainder of the incline and turned to look down upon the ensuing festivities.

Hundreds of people bustled about upon the intertwining stairways and directly surrounding the central platform, with untold numbers more both seated and standing all around the lip of the great basin. A girded, reinforced metal stage equipped with a PA and full-scale lighting system had been erected directly in front of the mayor's residence, upon which the Garden orchestra presently performed. Numerous white tents had been erected within the open circular expanse near the bottom, evidently offering freshly prepared concessions if the sizzling steam and savory aromas wafting upward from them were any indication. All around, the people danced, drank, and laughed merrily, with nary a hint of observable animosity between the two parties. It was a festival that embodied the very image of fellowship.

"What do you think?" Rinoa chimed in from the side. "Not too shabby for just a few days' work, huh?"

Squall was awestruck at the sight of it all, speechless in the face of the all-encompassing gaiety before him. How the mayor could possibly have given the go-ahead for such a thing was beyond his ability to fathom. After several more moments spent staring on in wide-eyed amazement, the orchestra brought its current piece to a close, prompting a light round of applause from all those who saw fit to offer one. The conductor graciously took his bow, only to be upstaged by a single outfitted SeeD strolling across the stage to the microphone standing at its fore. Even before she spoke, the unmistakable spring in her step was all it took for Squall to recognize her from so far away.

"Let's hear it again for the Balamb Garden chamber orchestra!" Selphie's voice blared over the PA. "Are we all having a good time so far, people?"

A healthy choir of cheers erupted in response, Squall feeling slightly startled by the sheer amount in his vicinity.

"That's what I like to hear!" she continued. "And now, if I could have your attention please, there are just a couple of things those of us from the festival committee and the government of Fisherman's Horizon would like to say before we get on with the rest of the festivities. Firstly, on behalf of the Garden student body, I'd like to take a moment to personally congratulate our new commandant-to-be, Squall Leonhart, on his big promotion. Squall, if you're out there, this is all for you, ya big stud! Let's have a big round of applause, everyone, come on!"

Squall felt his face turn flush with embarrassment as the cheering kicked up again. Now, more than at any other time he could remember, he desperately wished he could simply shrivel away into nothingness and leave the mortal plane behind entirely. Already shaken to his very core, it was then that Rinoa affectionately pulled herself close to him, wrapping both of her arms around his right and gently placing her head on his shoulder. Instantly, his sense of mortification shot through the stratosphere, and did not recede even after she graciously stepped away a second later.

"Don't let him get away, Rinoa!" Selphie joked, seemingly well aware of the mischievous ploy. "And now, with that out of the way, I'd like to hand the stage over to Mayor Dobe for a brief word. Take it away, sir!"

The bubbly girl quickly vacated her spot at the microphone, allowing for a far slower moving gentleman to shuffle his way across the stage to take her place. The streaks of grey running through his hair practically leapt out from under the spotlights, a stark contrast to the dark attire he now wore. Although it was impossible for Squall to pick out details from such a distance, the bagginess of his pants certainly implied it was no manner of formal wear. When considering his disheveled appearance five days earlier however, and in relation to the average townsperson's clothing, it was likely the most presentable outfit available to him.

"My friends," he wearily began. "I am so happy to see you all enjoying yourselves this evening. And, of course, none of it would have been possible if not for the Balamb Garden festival committee. Let's have another round of applause for the hard-working men and women who've spent the last few days toiling non-stop."

As Dobe's request was gratified by all those around him, Squall looked on in stark confusion. This did not sound at all like the same man who had previously shown such flippant disregard for SeeD's assistance.

"It has been a trying and turbulent week for us all," he continued. "And personally speaking, it has been one rife with soul-searching and careful contemplation for me and my wife. Fisherman's Horizon was founded long ago in pursuit of a dream for a better way of life. One whereby man and nature could happily coexist together, without need for senseless fighting amongst one another. I have made it my mission to uphold that central ethos for all of these years I have presided over this town, that any conflict can be peacefully solved with civil discussion and discourse. And while I still believe it in my heart to be true, I have come to realize that no good will come of demonizing or ostracizing others merely for having a different view of the world, or ascribing to a different set of values. And that to simply dismiss the legitimacy of those views outright, without showing the goodwill to listen to the arguments behind them, is the deepest hypocrisy and ignorance."

He paused, allowing a hushed muttering to envelop the whole of the solar array. Squall could scarcely believe his ears, so radically different was the mayor's demeanor and so stunning his change of heart.

"I owe this revelation to one young man," he started up again. "Who so passionately made it clear to me that while our beliefs may be diametrically opposed to one another, they both share the same end-goal. And to that end, I thank you. To Fisherman's Horizon and SeeD! May we all come to accept each other's differences and strive for a better future together. Huzzah!"

The audience burst into their loudest cheer yet, so much so that Squall was tempted to cover his ears at the abrupt swell in volume. Instead, he simply stood motionless, amazed to learn that his words, however clumsily he might have grasped for them on the spot five days ago, had gotten through to the elderly man after all. That they had inspired him so much as to allow their festival to be held right on his doorstep spoke louder than any carefully crafted speech ever could.

"Now, let's get on with the show, everyone!" he cheerfully boasted, and signaled for the newly arrived Garden jazz ensemble at his rear to kick into their first number.

"What did I tell you?" Rinoa beamed from his side as the brass horns blared. "You're already shaping up to be a highly respected leader. What more could you ask for?"

With the surreal ceremony having concluded, and the last of the jitters having left Squall's nervous system, the sudden return of his rumbling stomach provided the answer for him.

"Food," he bluntly spoke, starting down the densely packed staircase for the nearest concession stand.

Rinoa trailed him all the way to the bottom, seemingly content to take Selphie's earlier request to heart. Many students he passed along the way took notice, shooting him congratulatory smiles, thumbs-ups, and winks aplenty. Upon reaching the base of the solar array, he practically bolted for the first tent he came across, the line thankfully being only three people long. He purchased three skewers of grilled fish from the vendor, handing one to Rinoa out of consideration before quickly scarfing down the other two, and then promptly sought to fight his way back out of the throngs of people. Realizing he would likely find better success navigating the crowds by avoiding them altogether, he maneuvered his legs over the surrounding guardrails to touch down beneath the solar panels to the right of the stage.

He squinted as he peered across the panels' shadowy undersides, the darkness broken only intermittently by the concert's lighting shining on through the evenly spaced gaps. Fumbling his way forward in disregard of Rinoa's insistence that they turn back, his eyes finally took notice of a ladder's silhouette propped up in between two sets of panels. Squall's tongue abruptly caught in his throat as he recalled Irvine's suggestive aside, and yet a strange curiosity beckoned him forward to meet it all the same. As he reached the base of the rungs, his eyes bulged as he noticed the seemingly discarded magazine lying next to it. ' _Girl Next Door',_ it's title read above a kneeling nude model with her arm held before her voluptuous chest.

 _Holy shit, he was serious…_

"Wonder who put this here," Rinoa muttered. Squall instantly flipped back around to face her, prepared to divulge any other explanation he could think of for the magazine, when he noticed her eyes were firmly trained to the ladder.

"Wanna head on up?" she suggested, taking hold of the rungs. "I bet we could get an awesome view from up there."

Squall allowed himself to breathe normally again, thankful that she had apparently been too distracted to take notice. She carefully pulled herself up and began to climb, the steel frame appearing sturdy enough to support her weight without issue. Despite such an assurance, Squall's prior near-death experience with regard to ladders in the Garden's maintenance level came rushing back to him as soon as he took hold of the first rung. Realizing any potential drop in this instance would amount to a matter of feet rather than meters, he followed suit and started up the ladder, soon finding that his worries had indeed been for naught.

"Wow," Rinoa exhaled as he pulled himself up over the edge of the solar panel. "It's like having our own private suite to watch the show from!"

He glanced out across the two subsequent rows of panels before him to the stage, where the jazz ensemble still performed for all with the fresh addition of a female vocal soloist. Free from the bustle of the crowds below, and not so far removed as the people seated on the upper rim high above, it was indeed the most picturesque view of the festival's proceedings one could ask for. Despite his highly questionable outlook on the finer points of romance, Irvine's choice of location had been right on the money.

"I guess so," he muttered, taking a seat squarely in the middle of the panel.

"Geez, don't get _too_ excited about it," Rinoa sarcastically quipped as she plopped herself down beside him. Just as when she had briefly snuggled in close to him earlier, his heart began to pound frantically once more.

"So, listen," she started in a gentle tone of voice. "There's something I wanted to say. It's about your promotion. I know it's not like you're suddenly the big man in charge around the Garden just yet, but… I think I've got a pretty good idea how you must be feeling about all this. It's a lot of responsibility to live up to, and I'm sure there'll be a lot of new and difficult things that you'll have to deal with from now on. Me and the others were talking about that, and saying how you'll probably just try to handle everything on your own, like you always do."

 _No argument there…_

"And now that I've said that, you're probably thinking something like, 'No argument there'."

Squall flinched at the remark, startled as to how perfectly she had read his mind. As soon as the surprised expression crossed his face, she burst into a chuckle.

"I haven't been around you that long, but I think I know how you tick a lot better than most," she joked. "You know, when you start thinking really hard about this sort of stuff, you always make this frown."

"I'm out of here," Squall firmly announced, his patience with Rinoa having reached its limit for the evening. He maneuvered himself to stand up and take his leave, when the girl's arms once again wrapped themselves around his, keeping him anchored in place.

"Oh, come on!" she begged him to stay, working her way dangerously further into his personal space all the while. "I'm just teasing you a little. You need to stop taking everything so seriously all the time."

She leaned her head in closer, placing her lips directly beside his ear, and whispered seductively to him.

"Unless… maybe you _want_ to get serious."

Squall instantly shot to his feet, forcefully breaking free from Rinoa's grasp. He instinctively backed away from her in sheer terror and alarm, as though she were the very visage of Sorceress Edea herself.

"What the hell do you want from me!?" he finally snapped, flustered beyond the point of keeping any composure. "I didn't sign up for any of this!"

"That's it!" she exclaimed, rising to her own feet. "Just let it all out! Anything you need to! That's all we really want from you, Squall. We just want you to talk to us a little more. Like, if there's anything you want to tell us, or anything we can do to help, please don't hesitate to let us know. I know it's not easy for you, but I really wish you would just trust us, and not be so scared to rely on other people."

Squall's labored breathing slowly returned to normal as the surge in adrenaline gradually dissipated. He stood still as a statue, his mind drawing a blank as to what he could possibly say to Rinoa after she had just blindsided him with such an advance. It took several moments of silence between them for him to process what she had said. When he finally did, it was the central premise of her concern which struck him next.

 _Scared? Me?_

In the previous month alone, he had bravely faced dangers that would have reduced lesser men to a sniveling wreck. He had fought on the shores of Dollet, rescued a mysterious girl he still knew virtually nothing about from a fearsome plant creature, hijacked a train and fended off a disfigured undead thrall aboard, attempted to assassinate a sorceress, escaped from prison, saved the Garden from destruction and disposed of its wicked usurper among many other death-defying feats. The notion that he could be frightened by something so meaningless and trivial was laughable, or at least ought to have been. And yet, as he reflected on her words, wrestling with the tightly-wound knot within his gut that stubbornly refused to come undone, he was forced to concede that she was right. He was scared.

 _Of course, I'm scared. Why shouldn't I be? Nothing lasts in this world, least of all the people around you. Sure, it might feel great in the moment to have all these friends who believe in you, but that's exactly what makes it so dangerous, especially if you become too used to it. Someday you're bound to lose everything. Everyone around you will be gone, and then what are you left with? Nothing. Nobody. It's the most miserable feeling in the world, and it's inevitable. It's so hard to recover from something like that. I never want to have to live through that experience again. I can't. Even if it means being alone…_

"What a night," Rinoa finally sighed, sitting back down in place. "Great music, nice view, good-looking guy…"

She trailed off before redirecting her focus to him, smiling contentedly.

"And not _only_ is he good-looking," she elaborated. "But a sweet guy, too, even if he doesn't like to show it. And a great listener to boot. Right now, he's seriously thinking over what I just said. He's shy, and doesn't say much, but I know. So, come on, what do you think? Is there room enough in that little world of yours for us to squeeze in?"

"I… I appreciate your concern," he stumbled over himself. "But-"

"No 'buts'!" she firmly corrected him with a raised index finger. "Just think about it: the way things are shaping up with this whole war, there might not be another time where we can all be together like this. There's no guarantee for the future. That's why _today_ , the time we have _right now_ , is important. Squall, we really want to help you as much as we can, for as long as we can. We all love you… there, I said it. So, please, don't freak out on me. We just want to live through this time we have with you, together."

"Together?" he repeated, feeling overwhelmed by all that she had laid out for him in such a brief span. "That's exactly the problem, though. There _are_ no guarantees. Everyone I know goes away in the end. I don't…"

He trailed off as he began choking up. In that instant, he knew that if he allowed a single tear to loose itself from his eyes, he would be finished. He fought as hard as he could to hold in the sadness, to not allow her to see him in such a vulnerable and pitiful state. A gentle touch on his shoulder roused him from his misery, as he turned his weary eyes up to Rinoa's in front of him.

"Well, _I'm_ not going anywhere," she reassured him. "Not tonight, anyway. Come on, sit here with me. I won't bite. And I won't leave. I promise."

Those last two words struck him with a greater intensity than any other statement he had heard that night. More unbelievable still was that he intuitively knew she meant it. Unable to come up with a reasonable excuse to distrust her, he allowed himself to be pulled back down by his arm to sit with her. There they lingered beside one another in silence for several minutes longer, eyes and ears trained to the band on stage as they swiftly wrapped up another number. And yet all the while, in the midst of what should have been a decidedly awkward and uncomfortable scenario for him, Squall suddenly found himself overcome by a feeling of relief.

He recognized the strange contentment to be the very same he had felt when he had first danced with Rinoa at the inauguration ball. It was a serene and peaceful sensation, reflective of an unspoken understanding shared between him and the young girl. Just as it was on that night, she had gone so far out of her way to offer him a reprieve from his troubled state of mind, only for him to have stubbornly refused her at every turn in much the same way. He recalled the genuine disappointment he had felt when she had abruptly fled the dance floor, leaving him standing by his lonesome in the middle of the ballroom. Only now, with her by his side, seemingly aware of the loneliness he grappled with and prepared to stay with him through it all, did he finally understand how the need for companionship could be so intrinsic to the human experience.

The jazz ensemble started up again, this time backed by a selection of players from the orchestra providing a supplemental string accompaniment. Mere moments after they kicked in, Rinoa breathed a heavy sigh.

"They _would_ start playing this song right about now, wouldn't they?" she softly muttered.

"You don't like it?" Squall abruptly asked, turning his head to face her.

"No, it's not that," she insisted, hunching her knees up in front of herself and wrapping her arms around them. "It's just… my mom's the one who wrote it."

"Your _mom_?" he repeated, caught off guard by the unexpected response. His mind flashed back to the portrait of her mother he had seen on the wall of General Caraway's study, and the tragic telling of her sudden passing he and his squad had been afforded.

"Yeah, she had a little bit of a singing career before I was born," Rinoa elaborated. "This was her big hit, 'Eyes on Me'."

As the down tempo, slow dance of the intro slowly wound to its conclusion, the female vocal soloist stepped up to the microphone and began to sing.

" _Whenever I played my songs_

 _On that stage, on my own_

 _Whenever I spoke my words_

 _Wishing someone would hear_

 _I saw you smiling at me_

 _Was it real, or just my fantasy?_

 _You'd always be there in the corner_

 _Of that tiny little bar_

 _My last night here for you_

 _Same old songs, just once more_

 _My last night here with you?_

 _Maybe yes, maybe no_

 _I kind of liked it that way_

 _How you shyly placed your eyes on me_

 _Did you ever know that I had mine on you?_

 _Darling, so there you are_

 _With that look on your face_

 _As if you're never hurt_

 _As if you're never down_

 _Shall I be the one for you_

 _Who pinches you softly but sure_

 _And if your smile should fade_

 _Then I will know that you are no dream"  
_

The young lady's stunning voice reverberated all across the solar array, her delivery powerful yet tinged with a fitting sweetness. Squall's eyebrows furrowed further as each successive lyric met his ears; though he was positive he had never listened to the song before, the vocal melody itself sounded unnervingly familiar.

"She died when I was really young," Rinoa abruptly started up again. "I remember one time… gosh, I must have been like four… I asked her if she wrote this song for my dad. She told me to keep it a secret from him, but… apparently she wrote it for another guy she was in love with before. A soldier, who would come to see her perform all the time back when she was still just playing little clubs. He got sent off to fight in the war, and never came back."

A lightbulb suddenly went off in Squall's head, his eyes bulging and mouth falling open as the revelation occurred to him. This was the very same piece Julia had written for Laguna, and played for him in instrumental form on that fateful night. Past and present once again collided, leaving him utterly dumbfounded. Beyond the mere fact that Rinoa's mother was indeed the woman Laguna had been smitten with so long ago, that he had actually witnessed the very love affair she spoke of through the goofy Galbadian soldier's own eyes was positively world-rending. He was rudely snapped out of his recollection as Rinoa sprung to her feet and turned to face him.

"Come on," she smiled, extending her hand as an invitation. "How about one more, for old time's sake? Or, do you _still_ only dance with girls you like?"

Squall could not help but scoff at the jest, making the conscious decision at that very moment to put aside all he could not hope to understand, past and future alike.

"Is there a problem with that?"

He took her hand.


	35. Chapter 13 - Homecoming

13

 **CHAPTER 13 – HOMECOMIN** **G**

" _Sis," the boy mewled with his head hung, eyes downcast to the woolen blanket drawn over his legs. "Come back… please, come back… please… I miss you."_

 _The rattling of the door broke him from his self-pitying. His heart leapt into his throat as his head instantly shot up to see it swing ajar._

" _Hello…?" he nervously squeaked._

 _His anxiety just as quickly receded as the familiar head of dark flowing hair passed through the doorframe. The lady's equally plain, drab attire she often wore was a stark contrast to her gentle, pale-skinned features. Her worried green eyes immediately settled on him, appearing to light up ever so slightly as she saw he had awoken._

" _Rise and shine, sleepy-head," she beamed as she made her way over to him. "Come on, let's get you up. All the others have been awake for hours."_

" _Matron," the boy muttered with unease. "Is… is he gone?"_

" _Is who gone?" his caretaker asked with concern as she knelt down by the bedside._

" _Th-that man," he stammered, the terror creeping back into his mind as he pictured him again. "That man with the swords… the one who… he took Sis away, didn't he!?"_

 _He jolted upright in bed at the recollection of the man's words to him. He was abruptly restrained as Matron reflexively seized hold of him, wrapping her arms around his tiny figure._

" _Squall, calm down," she reassuringly cooed to him."It's okay. It sounds like you were just having a nightmare. Everything's alright."_

 _He continued to deeply inhale and exhale within her grasp, as she brought her hand up on top of his head to softly stroke his hair. Slowly but surely, he began to relax at her insistence. He knew that Matron would have no reason to lie to him, and that something so horrifying could only have been a figment of his imagination. No matter how much he sought to convince himself however, the sheer visceral terror had been too real for him to disregard._

" _Matron," he whimpered to her. "I… I'm scared. Where's Sis? Where'd she go? I… I don't wanna be all alone."_

" _You're_ not _alone," she told him, finally releasing him from the tight embrace. "You have me, and the others."_

" _But someday they'll all have to go away too, right?" he cried, unable to hold back the tears any longer. "And what about when_ I _have to go, and I'll never get to see any of them again… or you…"_

 _She raised herself from her knees and seated herself on the edge of the bed. Feeling a single hand lightly clasp his shoulder, the boy raised his teary eyes up to hers._

" _You're right," she acknowledged his concern. "Someday you and the others will all have new families of your own, and you might not get to see each other again for a long time. But the bonds you share with each other, the memories you've made… those are forever. It's the same for you and your 'Sis'. I know how badly you want to see her, and how lonely you must be without her, but you have to believe me. She's doing fine. She's going to be alright, and so are you. But you need to learn how to be okay with that loneliness, and fight through it. You need to be brave, to have a strong heart, like a lion. Promise me. If you can do that, you'll find her again."_

 _The boy kept his eyes locked to hers, entranced by the passion and understanding carried to him through her words. He intuitively knew she meant what she had said._

" _Really?" he sniffled, bringing up his arm to wipe the tears from his eyes._

" _Really," she swore, raising her own before her with her pinky finger outstretched to him. "Promise."_

 _With his hope restored, and his sadness momentarily overcome by the comfort Matron provided, he locked his own pinky with hers._

" _I'll try," he murmured._

" _I know you will," she accepted his vow, pulling him closer into another loving embrace. "I believe in you, Squall, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you. You're special. You were born to do great things. I know it."_

* * *

Within two days of the Garden Festival's conclusion, preparations for SeeD's departure from Fisherman's Horizon had been fully finalized. With the repairs to the Garden's mobilization system complete courtesy of the town's technical staff, the concert stage had been disassembled and moved back aboard. The newfound camaraderie shared between both parties continued to surprise Squall, much less how bittersweet the eventual parting appeared to be for many students and citizens who had become so friendly with one another in the interim. Xu had attempted to negotiate with Mayor Dobe to allow them to leave a small detachment of troops stationed in the town, as a precautionary measure in the event Galbadia were to send another battalion. Despite no longer holding any animus toward them, the mayor had chosen to respectfully decline the offer; true to his speech on the night of the festival, he was a man who vigorously held himself to his own principles. And so, after a week spent moored at the quaint waterside settlement, the Garden cast off back across the sea.

Having been away from land for so long, and with the on-board food supplies still dwindling, a long overdue return to Balamb was ruled to be the best course of action. Furthermore, there was still the matter of those students who had evacuated the Garden ahead of the missile strike to attend to, who had no doubt been rendered stranded in town for more than three weeks. Irvine had offered testimony in his official report to the headmaster that a full-scale invasion on Balamb had been planned. Accordingly, the course of their return trip had been adjusted so as to steer as far due east as possible, allowing the Garden to come ashore on the small island nation well out of visibility from the town. From there, a sole scouting party would be dispatched via a transport from the parking garage, supplied with uniforms procured from the fallen Galbadian troops at Fisherman's Horizon. All of this was made known to Squall on the first night of their expected four-day voyage, in the midst of his very first instructional session with Xu. And surely enough, he had managed to accurately predict who would be selected to command the scouting regiment before the words had even left her mouth.

The remainder of his initial lecture with the commandant had consisted mainly of an overview of the Garden's operational procedures, in addition to a general rundown of the duties particular to the title. While Squall had more or less come to terms with the reality of his appointment, he still had difficulty picturing himself actually stepping up to take the position when the time finally came. He would be only eighteen by then, younger than Xu when she had first taken on the role by a full three years. At Rinoa's behest however, he had made the conscious decision to set aside all of his concerns for the future, and keep his focus solely on the instruction he was being afforded. As a show of goodwill, the girl had even offered to postpone her own training sessions with him so as to help keep his mind free of any excess clutter. She would instead seek to better her Guardian Force control on her own, or with Quistis if her own schedule provided an opportunity.

When determining his scouting party of three, he had understood that Zell of all people would have a personal stake in seeing his hometown safe from any potential invasion. Predictably, he had leapt at the idea from the instant Squall had brought it up to him in the cafeteria on the second morning, insisting that his mother's home would give them a base to operate from should the mission end up spanning longer than a day. Much to his chagrin, it was then that the eavesdropping sharpshooter had seen fit to make his presence known, and insist for a spot on the team before he could vacate the area to track down Quistis for the position. Unable to come up with any kind of excuse as to why he couldn't come, the decision was effectively made for him.

The academy ran ashore right on schedule in the early morning hours of the fourth day, the gargantuan flotation ring below keeping their course steady as they gently surmounted the sandy beach. The landing procedure had been a sight to behold, leaving Squall breathless as he gazed down from the command bridge. Hugging the eastern end of the encircling Gaulg mountain range, the Garden slowed to a stop, and gradually started to descend. The flotation ring continued to rotate all the while, until it finally made contact with the soil and began churning through the earth. Dirt kicked up on all sides of the academy as it carved out a mammoth hole in which to plant itself. Only once the crater had reached a sufficient depth to allow the Garden proper to rest flatly on the surface did the whirring wheel begin to slow, and finally halt, leaving the newly stationary fortress engulfed in a gigantic dust cloud of its own making. The ring remained sunken into the newly incised moat, effectively acting as a platform to be used for disembarking from ground-level. Squall was sure there existed a control function to raise it back up to hover above the academy, just as it had for as long as he could remember. That the Centran civilization had been capable of crafting such a technological marvel more than one-hundred years before was stupendous, and a stark indication of just what had been lost to the world with the annihilation of their homeland.

Squall and his entourage assembled in the parking garage shortly after, all three already outfitted in their Galbadian disguises with backpacks each containing a set of their respective civilian attire, and filed into their transport of choice. As the lengthy tunnel connecting to the main highway had been left behind with the Garden's upheaval from its original resting place, the garage's exit was reduced to merely the wide automated doors now leading out onto the surrounding patch of land. Zell took the wheel, and the three started off across the makeshift bridge that was the flotation ring to meet the Alcaud Plains. With no clear-cut roadway for them to follow, the journey quickly devolved into a patience-testing foray, rife with numerous detours to circumnavigate the many rocky plateaus and patches of forestry which accounted for the general terrain.

As Zell continued to ford the wilderness around them, Squall's thoughts turned to the unsettling familiarity of the uniform he now wore. It had been almost exactly four weeks since his last experience in Laguna's body, unsurprisingly coinciding with his meeting with Ellone just before she had boarded the White SeeD ship. Whatever it was she had hoped to accomplish by using him as an intermediary, the visions had ceased altogether in the time since. He certainly had no desire for them to start up again, though recognized that her doing so would at least give him the peace of mind that she was still out of Edea's reach. It was obvious to him that this very same gift of hers was the reason the sorceress had expended so much manpower to track her down. And yet, had the missile strike been successful, she too would have been killed in the ensuing devastation. In hindsight, it had been a severe tactical blunder on Edea's part, and completely uncharacteristic for the same woman who had doubtless been at the headmaster's side through the formative years of SeeD. Surely she would not have simply ruled out Ellone being moved to the Garden in such a time of crisis. But then, as the headmaster himself had expressed, none of this was characteristic of the woman he once loved.

It was roughly two hours before they finally met the highway trailing onward into Balamb, and likewise caught sight of the massive crater situated where the Garden once stood. The smoldering had long since stopped, leaving only a wide concave expanse of scorched earth easily the diameter of Fisherman's Horizon's solar array. Irvine let out a whistle of amazement as they passed. Zell remained completely mum, and aside from a handful of cursory glances kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. Squall could scarcely blame him; though the fate of the Garden had been accounted for, the same could not be said for his mother and the rest of his hometown.

After another twenty minutes or so, they had arrived on the outskirts of the town. Deviating from the road well in advance of the town's arched gateway, Zell pulled the transport just inside the neighboring woodlands to park. Although their uniforms were unmistakably Galbadian in origin, the plain unmarked vehicle they had arrived by was not the sort a soldier would typically be seen driving while on patrol. The three filed out and continued down the last stretch of roadway on foot. Were the prospective invasion yet to have even begun, Squall realized that their disguises would be completely antithetical in allowing them entry into the town. If so, it would only have called for a quick double-back to the transport to change into their casual wear. As they drew closer however, he could see that their careful precaution had been warranted.

A pair of gleaming blue and silver uniforms to match their own stood guard on either side of the entrance. Momentarily relieving himself from his position at the head of the group, he slowed to allow Zell and Irvine to pass him by, and took up the rear. So long as they sought to remain incognito, it was imperative that he keep the gunblade at his side out of the enemy's line of sight as best he could. They unassumingly strode up to the gateway, Squall half-expecting to be accosted for their ID cards on the spot. Much to his surprise however, the left-hand guard wordlessly waved them on through without a second glance. Irvine provided him a courtesy wave in return, and the three continued unabated down the cobbled stone road, entirely free of traffic both pedestrian and vehicular.

"Phew!" Zell exhaled once they were safely out of earshot. "Figured we'd have it a little harder than that getting in."

"It's not like we could've come from anywhere else but here," Irvine reasoned. "Far as _they_ know, at least."

"Everything looks like it's in one piece," Squall interjected, gazing back and forth between the stout sandstone buildings lining either side of the street.

"Yeah, but way too quiet," Zell muttered. "Guess everyone's too afraid to come out of their houses. C'mon, let's get going to my Ma's place. It's right down this way."

He indicated left at the coming intersection, heading in the direction of the shoreline, and swiveled to start along it. Squall followed after the two as they turned the corner, coming to notice the side-road was equally as sparse as the main drag, save for a small cluster of patrolling soldiers approaching. Though he could understand the lack of civilians out and about at such a time, he had no explanation for the absence of the displaced SeeDs who had presumably fled to the town ahead of the missile strike. It was inconceivable that they wouldn't have established a defense against the Galbadian forces, no matter how outnumbered they might have potentially been. It was then all the more peculiar that the streets showed few if any signs of a struggle; aside from the occasional abandoned shopping bag or purse left strewn upon the ground, there was nothing to indicate the town had resisted the incursion. They passed the group of soldiers without incident, Zell gesturing down another stretch of cobbled road heading due west.

"Just a couple more blocks down this way," he assured them, preparing to turn the corner. "It's the house right before the road starts dipping down, across from the hardware store. Man, I hope she's al-"

Zell stalled in his speech the moment he rounded the intersection, and promptly froze. He stood completely still, his exposed mouth beneath his helmet parted in alarm. Squall quickly came to his side along with Irvine and stared along the street with him. It was immediately clear just what had caught his attention; a mere thirty feet ahead, in front of a shuttered local cafe, a group of four, all outfitted in uniforms of virtually the same shade of dark navy blue stood engaged in conversation with one another. And yet, only two among them were Galbadian infantry. The other pair standing opposite wore no visors, nor was their attire comprised of the standard silver plated armoring. Theirs was the uniform of every cadet to have attended Balamb Garden, complete with the embroidered SeeD crest adorning either shoulder.

Neither party had drawn their weapons on one another. Their unintelligible verbal exchange, while noticeably stern, did not seem to be born out of resentment for one another. Suddenly, one of the cadets clapped their hands together, and turned away from the gathering. The young man started at a hurried pace down the road, to be followed in turn by both his comrade and the infantrymen at his heels. Still, the troops did not raise their firearms to shoot, nor did the pair of cadets appear to be intent on outrunning them. One after another, the four rounded the corner up ahead, all seemingly bound for the same destination.

"What the hell?" Irvine finally broke the silence. "Those were two o' yer guys, right? What're they doin' workin' with the troops?"

"Let's tail them," Squall spoke up, taking the lead once more. "We need to find out what's going on around here."

The two silently complied as he started down the street after the procession. He turned onto the avenue they had ducked down, catching sight of the four just as they swung onto another street. He reflexively picked up the pace, no longer giving precedence to keeping himself inconspicuous; if it were perfectly normal for his targets to move with the haste they did, then passing patrols would likely pay little heed to another group of soldiers doing the same. He knew the gunblade at his side could still potentially serve to give him away, though now with this latest development, he had been provided enough information to come up with an excuse if need be.

The undercover entourage of three tracked the wayward cadets and their accomplices for several more blocks, all the while striving to keep just the right amount of distance behind. What other soldiers they did pass seemed to pay no mind, nor the additional pair of Garden operatives standing guard at the side of one particular road they traversed. Squall instinctively ground to a halt as he took notice of this second squadron, momentarily setting aside the matter of the initial group they had been trailing. The two faced away from him with their eyes trained to the nearest house, a large halberd and katana blade strapped to their respective backs. Following their line of sight to the front stairs, what Squall then witnessed unfold came to fully command his attention.

A middle aged man and woman, as well as a third seemingly unarmed cadet were marched out the front door and down the domicile's short flight of steps. The Galbadian soldiers to their rear kept their assault rifles firmly fixed to the three, forcefully prodding the sobbing wife forward the moment she slowed to a stop. She stumbled down the last two steps and fell to her knees in despair. The captured cadet, young, brown-haired, and green-eyed, shot an unmistakable look of disgust toward the two opposite him.

"I hope you're _real_ proud of yourselves," he growled as he was escorted forward to face them. "And that it was worth it to just turn your backs on everything we've ever known!"

"Don't be such a sore loser," the one with the katana mocked him. "It's nothing personal. We've just decided to join up with the winning team, that's all. You had the same opportunity as the rest of us, and you blew it."

"I always knew letting that damn Garden be built so close to us was a mistake!" the man of the house lashed out. "Some 'force for good' you little brats all turned out to be!"

"Just shut it!" one of the soldiers ordered from behind, whacking the man with the butt of his rifle and forcing him to his knees with his wife. "It was your own decision to harbor him, and now it's going to cost you. You three! Help them escort this fugitive to the commander for interrogation."

Squall's heart leapt into his throat as he and his squadmates were addressed. He snapped into his best attempt at the Galbadian salute just as the traitorous cadets turned around to face him.

"Yes, sir!" he affirmed. "And what of the family that sheltered him?"

"What do you think?" the infantryman scoffed. Without hesitation, he brought the barrel of his weapon down to hover just above the back of the kneeling man's head.

The gunshot erupted before Squall could properly process the soldier's reply. He jolted in place at the sound of the sudden blast. Another came the very next second. His eyes widened in shock as a pair of bodies fell limply from their feet and collapsed on the house's steps. A moment of stunned silence passed before he realized that the two to fall had in fact been the soldiers. The man and woman hunched over before them were completely unscathed. Broken from his trance, Squall whipped his head to his side, finding Irvine standing beside him with his own firearm raised, smoke wafting from both barrels.

The all-too-familiar sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard whisked his attention back to his front. Acting on reflex, Squall drew his own and blocked the katana as it struck. The clanging of the blades echoed down the length of the road, giving way to the unpleasant grinding of steel on steel as they stood locked in place. He deduced a second incoming attack out of the corner of his eye and released the parry, narrowly sidestepping out of the way of the halberd's thrust. He swiftly backed away with his gunblade raised in his right hand, reaching over with his left to activate the sphere clipped to his belt. His eyes darting every which way to make an assessment of the situation, he spotted Zell moving in from behind the duo to escort the rattled couple and the cadet they had harbored out of harm's way. Irvine stood a ways off to the side, his weapon tracking the turncoats' every move.

"Go on with them," Squall ordered the sharpshooter. "We'll rendezvous you-know-where."

"Rodger," he complied, cautiously circling around the confrontation with his weapon still drawn. The katana and halberd wielders followed him with their eyes, until he last passed beyond Squall's own line of vision, along with his comrade and the three hostages.

"I should've noticed that gunblade from the moment you strolled up," the swordsman menaced. "You must think you're pretty clever, huh?"

"What's going on around here?" Squall demanded. "Why have you sided with the enemy?"

"What are you, stupid?" the one with the halberd snorted. "Well, I guess you'd _have_ to be if you're still gonna fight for that coward, Cid, after what we all know now."

Squall paused, contemplating what exactly they could have learned about the headmaster that would have led them to make such a choice. The only thing he could think of was the misinformation spread by Norg's administration four weeks earlier that he had sided with the sorceress, in an attempt to turn the student body against him. It stood to reason that the conflict between both factions might have continued in the time since these students had been left behind, but he knew that could not have been the reason for their desertion. Why, if they truly believed that Cid had sided with Edea to sell them out, would they ally themselves with her army?

"It was an easy choice to make, and you chose poorly," he derided him. "And now it's time to pay the price!"

He viciously lunged forward with the halberd outstretched. Squall brought his sword up to deflect as he backed away from the sharpened tip, and sidestepped as it was thrust past him. He defensively placed the blade between himself and his opponent's weapon to counter the surely incoming sideswipe, the weapons clashing as it came. He forcefully pushed off to free himself from the parry just as the katana wielder dashed ahead to meet him. Their blades met several times in quick succession, Squall content to remain on the defensive for as long as he was able; his aim was not to win the battle, but to stall them for the others to escape. As a ruckus of shouting erupted from behind the two attackers, courtesy of a freshly arrived platoon of soldiers, he recognized that he had managed to buy all the time he could afford to.

Squall abruptly backpedaled to disengage from the confrontation, and began to focus on channeling the wind energy into his legs. He quickly sheathed his gunblade and spun around to make his retreat, bolting back along the road in an effort to build up speed. After no more than three seconds, he leapt for the nearest rooftop, soaring high up to meet its shingled roofing. He landed gracefully atop, and burst into a sprint across its surface, gunfire erupting from behind all the while. The thought of conjuring an energy shield barely registered to him, so single-minded was his determination to escape, and neither was he willing to attempt doing so while on the run.

He bounded from one rooftop to another, soaring over the desolate streets en route toward the shore just ahead. Remembering Zell's passing mention of the location of his mother's house, he frantically scanned the buildings below for any sign of a hardware store, or otherwise a decline in the road. After what seemed by his estimation to be enough blocks back to the stretch of road they had been on, he finally spotted the shop in question, situated on the curb of a small three-way intersection. One path branched off from the town proper and down a gradual decline toward Balamb's renowned waterside hotel, and the sparkling shore just beyond. Pausing for a moment on the roof's lip to ensure there were no guards in sight, he leapt down onto the street, exercising the flotation buffer technique to break his fall, and approached the house on the end, directly opposite the hardware store.

He rapped hard on the door twice, only then stopping to wonder if he had arrived ahead of his teammates. He was answered moments later by a heavy-set, middle aged woman with a cream-colored apron thrown over her plain white button-up blouse. Her wrinkled brown eyes stared into his visor with obvious skepticism and apprehension.

"What do you want?" she grumbled, evidently treating him no differently than she would any genuine officer of the Galbadian army. Squall reached up and removed the helmet from his head; although they had never met, he could only hope the show of deference would help to put her at ease.

"My name is Squall Leonhart," he introduced himself, performing the SeeD salute with the helmet tucked under his free arm. "I'm a Balamb operative working undercover with your son. Is… he here?"

"What the holy hell kind of nonsense is that!?" the woman sharply accused him. "The nerve! If you really think I'm going to buy some two-bit charade like that and just let you waltz on into my home, then you've got another-"

She stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she redirected them past him. Squall craned his neck back to see the group of five had just arrived at his rear, Zell having removed his helmet to reveal the unmistakable tattoo around his eye and the blonde head of hair above.

"Ma," he bashfully grinned. "It's great to see you're okay. You've got to let us in, right now. It's urgent."

Without another word, Mrs. Dincht vacated the door frame to allow them passage. Squall took the lead and stepped on through, casting his gaze all around the domed central hub of the house. The windows overlooking the beach far below were drawn open, the sunlight shining on through across the tiled stone floor. From the circular antechamber roughly fifteen feet across, three additional open entryways had been carved from the sandstone interior, leading into a small kitchen, a staircase heading up, and what appeared to be a multipurpose room which doubled as the living and dining area. It was a perfectly cozy and humble abode for a small family of three or four, though Squall imagined it would prove a slight hassle to now accommodate seven.

"Zell!" the boy's mother finally gasped as she closed the door after them and locked the deadbolt. "What's going on? How did you get into town? Are you alright? I was worried sick when the missiles hit. I went down to the waterfront every day to see if you were there with the other survivors. I've been absolutely miserable all this time."

"I'm alright Ma," he insisted. "I'll tell you all about what's happened in a little bit. But these folks here have been through a lot. Could you help them get settled in here, and maybe put some tea on? And… it would probably be a good idea to close the curtains."

"Sure thing!" she agreed, stepping on over to the window. "Please, make yourselves comfortable in the living room. I'll bring the tea in as soon as it's ready."

"Th-thank you so much!" the woman whimpered in gratitude, taking hold of her husband's arm as they gingerly hobbled into the adjacent room. The rescued cadet started to follow after, when Squall abruptly seized him by the wrist.

"We need to talk to you," he firmly addressed the young man before turning back to Zell. "Is there somewhere we can speak in private? Like your room?"

"I… guess," he hesitantly assented, motioning toward the stairs. "But no touching anything while we're up there. It's sacred ground, you hear?"

"Sure thing," Irvine calmly accepted the conditions. "Not like bein' in a _guy's_ room is gonna get me all that excited, anyway."

Squall motioned for the cadet to follow the pair up the steps, himself bringing up the rear just behind. The twisting staircase curved along up to the second floor landing, which ultimately amounted to little more than a pair of doorways on either side with a small bathroom straight ahead. Zell led the way into the left-hand room, and the moment Irvine stepped in after him, his prior quip was suddenly proven to be mistaken.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed out loud, followed by a set of hurried footsteps across the wooden floorboards.

"Hey, I said no touching!" Zell angrily protested.

Squall stepped in after his unsettled interviewee, quickly taking an obligatory glance around the room. A lone bed rested beside the shuttered windows, in the vicinity of both a speed bag and punching bag. Turning his attention to the opposite side of the room, the object of Irvine's exhilaration instantly became apparent. Reverently hung above the dresser drawers were a collection of three excellently preserved rifles from yesteryear, topped by a framed picture of a decorated war veteran in full uniform.

"Man, these are old-school!" the excited sharpshooter lit up. "They sure don't make 'em like this anymore."

"They were my grandpa's," Zell explained, seating himself on the bed. "He fought in the war before I was born. He was always the guy I looked up to the most, and the one who inspired me to become a SeeD in the first place."

"That so?" Irvine replied, his face seeming to take on a look of uncertainty for a brief moment. Perhaps Zell's obvious sentimentality for his grandfather had indeed managed to set him straight for once.

"Let's just get down to business," Squall announced, gesturing for the cadet to take a seat on the bed beside Zell. "Your name is?"

"Collin," he muttered, apprehensively taking his place on the edge.

"Listen to me, Collin," he started sympathetically. "We're with the rest of the survivors aboard Balamb Garden. We just got back this morning. Everything's going to be alright. We're going to get you and all of the other stragglers out of here, but first I need you to tell me what's happened since we've been gone. Why are so many of the other students siding with Galbadia now?"

The young man's eyes widened at the news that the Garden had made landfall once again, and for a faint instant seemed to swell with hope. That glimmer faded away just as quickly as he turned his eyes to the floor and sucked in a deep breath.

"That day," he started wearily. "When the missiles came… me and a lot of the others got the news about it from a couple who were making the rounds. So, we just dropped what we were doing and followed them into town like they told us. Most of us had nowhere to go, so the mayor moved to have basic provisions and tents sent down to the waterfront for us to stay there. It was like our own little refugee camp."

"Did this conflict start because of the uprising in the Garden?" Squall asked bluntly. Lacking the necessary context to understand the question, Zell's face promptly took on a puzzled look.

"Not really," Collin continued. "I mean, the tensions were definitely still there, bubbling under the surface, but most of us were just happy we'd managed to live through something like that. There was some in-fighting here and there, but nothing more than a little bit of fisticuffs between a select few people. Relationships seemed like they were on the mend. It really felt like everything was going to be alright after all. And then about five days ago… _they_ showed up…

* * *

The clamorous whirring of heavy machinery roused Collin from his slumber. Raising himself from the cot which had served as his bed for the previous three weeks, he rubbed his eyes and gazed around at his tent-mates, finding they too had awoken. As the noise grew ever more prominent, so did the ground beneath begin to rumble, and the flaps of the tent begin to whip wildly in the sudden gust.

"What the hell is going on!?" his friend shouted over the din, a cadet roughly his own age by the name of Bram.

"You think it's the Garden coming back?" another responded hopefully.

Collin bolted upright and rushed outside to survey the situation, finding the state of panic had spread to every corner of the camp. Cadets and SeeDs shot from their respective tents, racing up the waterfront toward the source of the disturbance. With a single glance over the edge of the water, the cause of the tremor was made abundantly clear to him.

Just off shore, drawing closer by the second, hovered a gargantuan crimson battleship larger than any he had ever seen. Its sheer size easily matched that of Balamb Garden's, and as it drew closer, he recognized it to be held aloft by a similar whirring flotation ring rising up out of the shallow waters. Indeed, having already witnessed the transformation of his former home into a roving fortress from afar, the identity of the fast approaching anomaly was made all the more clear to him. It was Galbadia Garden itself, mobilized in a virtually identical manner and careening towards them from across the water.

Legions of students stood motionless on the pier, seemingly unfazed by or otherwise no longer cognizant of the whipping breeze. Others ran for whatever cover they could find, most immediately the rows of SeeD assault boats moored at the side of the docks; without the keys, their presence had otherwise done them no favors thus far. Gradually, the floating academy began to slow, coming to a halt just before the ring made contact with the shoreline. Minutes passed in dread anticipation, the gathered survivors all murmuring among themselves as to what such an ominous foreboding could mean for them. Had the Galbadia Garden administration finally come to rescue them from their new lives spent living in squalor? Collin desperately hoped it to be so, that their foreign counterparts would offer them the berth that the mysterious beige-clad operatives who had briefly pulled into the port on the first day had stubbornly denied them.

"Look!" Bram suddenly gasped from his side. "Up there!"

Collin followed his friend's outstretched finger to the very height of the Garden, and noticed what appeared to be a small swarm of hovering mechs, roughly fifteen in all, dispersing into the air. His ears soon picked up on the whirring of turbine engines as they descended, drawing closer to the point where he could finally make out their sleek aquamarine color scheme. His heart sank as he took notice of the uniforms of those piloting them, all strapped into their safety harnesses upright with both hands fixed to the controls on either arm of the mechs. The matching navy blue and silver of Galbadia's armed forces shone brightly in the midday sun, offset only by the attire of the one who led the pack.

It was he who touched down first before the crowd, swiftly unbuckling the harness and stepping forward to address them. His long grey coat trailed to the dock beneath his black boots, his hair a neatly trimmed blonde. His face was stern, with a lone scar running across the bridge of his nose from just above his left eye. The crowd's murmuring intensified at his approach, coming to rival even the descent of the soldiers in his company.

"Hey, isn't he that guy from the broadcast?" he heard one of those closest to him speak. "You know, the one who took the president hostage?"

"Holy shit, you're right!" another responded. "He's one of our guys, right? What the hell's he doing with _them_?"

"Seifer!" a raucous bellow finally drowned out all other commotion in the vicinity.

Collin turned his head in the direction of the cry, to see a bulky, muscular giant of a man fighting his way through the crowd. Cadets and SeeDs soon began to part at his behest, seemingly aware of the very real risk of being bowled over by the human locomotive. Behind him, a significantly shorter, silver-haired woman shadowed his every step, the very same who had accompanied him when they had scoured the Garden to inform everyone else present of the incoming missile strike.

"Safe!?" she belted out as they reached the fore of the crowd.

"Yeah, Squall was telling us you got captured and killed, ya know?" the tanned muscle-head blabbered on. "We _knew_ it had to be a load of crap, ya know?"

"So, he's already been here, has he?" the blonde smirked, accepting a megaphone in one hand from a Galbadian soldier. "I wonder just what other vicious lies he's been spreading to you. It's good that you're here. I've got an important job for you two."

"Whatever you say, ya know?"

"Committed!"

Seifer turned his attention from his comrades back to the crowd gathered before him on the pier, none among them daring to so much as breathe. He clicked the megaphone on, raised it to his lips, and proceeded to divulge his amplified proclamation to them all.

"My fellow students!" his voice boomed across the waterfront. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Did anyone miss me?"

The murmuring kicked up again, unnerved and confused in equal measure. Collin did not personally know the man, seemingly two-to-three years his senior, but did not take kindly to the snide tone of his voice all the same.

"I'm sure it's been a trying time for you all," he continued above the idle chatter. "To be forced out of your home and left to seek refuge on the streets. You've no doubt lived these past few weeks in despair, longing for the day when help will arrive to uplift you out of this poverty. That day is today. I am here to offer you the salvation you seek, and the promise that this sad turn of events will turn out to be a blessing in disguise… for those among you who choose to believe. For years we have toiled in the Garden, training for the day when we would come to fight for a man who cares nothing for us. A man who would turn an entire army of brainwashed children against his own wife, the very woman who'd established SeeD to begin with. That's right… it was not Cid Kramer who founded SeeD, but the woman who loved him, and who was betrayed by him, Sorceress Edea!"

The crowd had fallen completely silent at his words. Collin momentarily shifted his wide eyes every which way, to find a similar look of shock painted on every student's face. The idea that the sorceress could possibly have been the headmaster's wife, much less the one who had started SeeD was utterly beyond the pale. It was impossible, and frankly unbelievable.

"You have been led astray by this serpent of a man, your minds corrupted, blinded to the truth for so long. We have been raised all our lives to become mindless cogs in Cid's war machine, built for a single purpose: to destroy the sorceress. To murder his own wife because she possesses a power he can't understand."

In a flash, Seifer reached into his coat with his free hand and pulled it back out a split second later. He outstretched his arm for them all to behold the gleaming silver sphere clasped within his fingers.

"Do you see this!?" he roared into the megaphone. "This sphere I hold in my hand, and all of its kind, are an abomination. A bastardization of that power, obtained through illegitimate means, and mass produced to create an army of super soldiers. It is a forbidden power that was not intended for normal humans like you and I to wield. You have all tasted it, and in turn had your minds tainted by it."

All was deafeningly silent save for the crashing of the waves against the pier. Collin's tongue had become leaden in his mouth; he could not have uttered a peep even if he had wanted to.

"Make no mistake," he assured them, returning the GF to the inside of his coat. "It is not your fault. We have been propagandized to for our entire lives by that man, for his own selfish ambitions. And it is for that reason that I have come to absolve you all."

Just as quickly as he had pulled out the sphere before, a gleaming ebony gunblade sliced through the air. Those at the front of the crowd gasped in alarm and stepped back, as the blade came to a halt held high up in the midday sky.

"Swear your allegiance to Edea," Seifer commanded them all. "Turn your backs on the lies you have been fed, and for your bravery, you will receive even greater power, as a Sorceress' Knight. Make your decision now. Who will you follow? Our benevolent founder? Or the cowardly thief who stole it all from her, and left you here to wither away?"

Collin's mind was awash with uncertainty and confusion. He had seen the sorceress publicly execute the Galbadian president on live TV, and survived the missile bombardment which was surely intended to kill them all. Regardless as to whether she were indeed SeeD's original founder as the swordsman claimed, or if the headmaster's goal all along had been to organize an army to defeat her, she was indisputably a power-hungry tyrant who posed a very real threat to the safety of the world. There was nothing that could possibly persuade him to offer his allegiance to someone so wicked, nor could he imagine any of the others standing by his side doing the same.

"Count us in, ya know?"

"Allegiance!"

The pair of lackeys standing beside Seifer both took a knee before him, their heads bowed in reverence. Collin watched on with awe as the blonde swiftly brought his blade down to knight them on either side of their heads, his face wrought with the sickest satisfaction as he did so.

"Your sins are forgiven," he passed judgment. "And as a reward for your unwavering loyalty, I'll be placing this town under your jurisdiction going forward. You may rise… Commander and Captain."

The duo raised themselves back to their feet as instructed, both positively radiant with pride. Their object of adoration payed them little heed, turning back to face the rest of the crowd with that same knowing smirk.

"All those who wish to swear fealty, step forward now," he proclaimed. "The rest of you… we'll deal with shortly."

Seconds passed in stark silence before two cadets amid the first row moved forward to be knighted. Several more followed after, soon forming a proper queue. Collin looked on in amazement as one by one, cadets and SeeDs alike fell in line to swear their allegiance. His mind refused to believe what his eyes were seeing, nor would it allow him to throw aside his morals and join them.

"Come on," a voice spoke to him from his side. He turned his eyes to meet Bram's, stern and unwavering. "Let's get in line. You heard him, this is our chance for a fresh new beginning."

Unable to stomach the thought any longer, Collin turned and bolted, never looking back.

* * *

"So, now you're telling me that jackass has his own damn cult!?" Zell blurted out. "And what's this crap about the sorceress being the headmaster's wife!?"

"It's true," Squall spoke bluntly, recognizing there was no point in keeping it hidden from him. "Quistis and I learned about it shortly after we got back to the Garden. It doesn't make any sense, but the headmaster himself confirmed it for us."

The blonde's jaw dropped and remained perpetually hanging in place. Collin, seated at his side, looked to be no less rattled from the retelling of his own harrowing tale. The sharpshooter, his helmet finally removed from his head and set down on top of the dresser, casually leaned back in the corner of the room, his eyes trained to the floorboards. The lack of a reaction from him did not surprise Squall in the slightest given what he now knew.

"After that, they split the knights up," the young cadet continued. "About half went with him aboard the Garden, and the rest stayed here to search the town for the SeeD loyalists like me. The Galbadians hot-wired all the assault boats and took them out of the harbor, as well. Mr. and Mrs. Pascal downstairs said they'd heard from one of the guards that they're searching for something out on the ocean."

"Ellone," Squall deduced immediately.

"You _know_!?"

He turned his attention to Irvine at the sudden outburst. The gunman had raised his eyes from the floor at last, staring intently at him with surprise.

" _You_ know?" Squall threw the question back at him.

"I heard it from a guy I was partnered with at Fisherman's Horizon," he explained. "That's the whole reason they were gatherin' up all the people in the center o' town that day, to make sure she didn't slip under their noses. I told Cid about it, an' he said everythin' was already taken care of."

"I'm a little lost here, guys," Zell interjected. "Who's this 'Ellone' you're talkin' about?"

"She's a girl the sorceress has been hunting down," Squall began, hoping he would somehow be able to explain the situation adequately given what little he still understood. "She was in the Garden before the missiles came. The headmaster sent her away on a boat the next day with some special branch of SeeD."

"And why would the sorceress go to so much trouble just to find this one girl?" he followed up. "Who the hell is she, anyway?"

"I… don't really know who she is, either," Squall admitted. "I only met her briefly, when she was being taken aboard the other ship. All I know is that she's been under SeeD's protection for a long time, because she has some kind of… special power that Edea must be after."

He had deliberated whether or not to make any mention of Ellone's ability, based purely on his gut instinct to not allow anything which could not be explained logically into his account. When he considered the inexplicable and seemingly limitless power Edea had made use of before their very eyes however, he realized that anything else of the sort would likely not require much convincing for everyone present to believe. He braced himself for the incoming question as to what kind of special power the girl held, to which he now actively dreaded having to explain in depth.

"You don't know who she is, huh?" Irvine piped up from the sidelines. "Man, I _really_ hope you didn't say that to her."

"What?" Squall's head shot up, completely caught off guard. " _You_ know something about her?"

"Plenty," the sharpshooter calmly answered.

"And that's not all, is it?" he pressed the issue further. "You also knew about Edea that night! That's the reason why you wouldn't pull the trigger, isn't it? How do you know all these things? Answer me!"

Squall kept his eyes locked with Irvine's for an uncomfortably long time, neither wavering for a moment in their silent stare down. As opposed to his own coercive glare, the sharpshooter's gaze reflected a stern yet solemn demeanor which proved difficult for him to read. The look in his deep blue eyes was akin to that of many an instructor in his cadet days, sizing him up before the day's first training assignment. Finally, he sighed deeply, and straightened himself out from his casual lean in the corner.

"Look," he started as he made his way over, Squall once again noticing his enunciation had become more rigid. "I know we had a bit of a falling out that night. I honestly thought you knew who Edea was and just didn't care. It was wrong of me to presume, and I don't blame you for any of it. Or you, Zell."

"Huh?" the blonde raised his eyebrow in surprise at being dragged into the conversation. "What do I have to do with any of this?"

"More than you know," Irvine continued. "These last few weeks have given me time to do a lot of thinking, and after listening to this kid's story just now, I'm pretty sure I know what's been going on. But it's something the girls need hear, too. I'll tell you everything you want to know some other time, when we're all together. Right now, we need to focus on liberating this town and getting all the stragglers back to the Garden. This 'commander' and 'captain' he was talking about… by the sound of it, they're the same two who came to Galbadia Garden the day we met, right?"

"Yeah," Squall affirmed, unsatisfied with the answer he had been given, but ready to hold him to it should he conveniently forget.

"Any chance they can be reasoned with?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," Zell scoffed. "One's a meathead, and just getting the other to talk is like trying to draw blood from a stone."

"The way they follow Seifer, I doubt they could be persuaded," Squall agreed. "But if they're the ones running this town now, then we need to find some way of dealing with them. Do you have any idea where we can find them?"

Collin, having been ignored for so long in the midst of their inter-personal quarrel, abruptly craned his head back up to face him with embarrassment.

"I… I know the commander rarely leaves the Balamb hotel," he stammered. "But that's where the army's housing all of the soldiers and knights. Just walking in there would be suicide, especially after what you guys pulled today. They're definitely going to be checking IDs from now on."

"And what about the 'captain'?"

"Supposedly, he spends a lot of his free time fishing on the docks," Collin sheepishly divulged. "Sorry, that's really all I can tell you. I've spent the last week hiding out in someone else's house. Everything I know comes from second-hand sources."

"Well, it seems like it'd be easier to focus on him," Irvine concluded. "Sounds like he's not the brightest bulb, so maybe we could use him to draw out the other one. We'd just need to get his attention somehow and lure him into a trap."

Squall concurred with the idea, but had difficulty fathoming how such a thing could be accomplished. Raijin, for all his bluster, was a shining exemplar of physical fitness; managing to outrun him would be no small feat. Stunningly, the answer came to him almost immediately with a cursory glimpse at Zell and Collin's feet. It rested just behind, sticking out ever so slightly from under the bed.

"What's that under there?" he broached the question. Zell glanced down, maneuvered a single foot beneath and slid it out. Squall's eyes widened at the sight of it, having sworn it could only have been a mirage.

"I thought that thing got confiscated?" he blurted out, as much to remind himself as to ask for an explanation.

"We're right across from a hardware store," Zell flashed him a sly smirk in return. "You didn't really think I'd build myself just _one_ , did you?"

Squall's face took on a smirk of its own at the remark, recalling the blonde's protestation when the first had been ripped from his grasp by the Thorn that evening. ' _This thing could really come in handy on a mission someday!_ ' he had pleaded. That day had arrived.


	36. Chapter 14 - Of Loyalty and Friendship

14

 **CHAPTER 14 – OF LOYALTY AND FRIENDSHIP**

The training center's bright fluorescent lighting high above reflected off the surface of the small pond, producing a shimmering effect no different to that of natural sunlight shining across the ocean. Supplemented by the volumes of water brought forth from Rinoa's palm in the past hour, the girl had inadvertently managed to conjure a fair share of rainbows to complement her spellcraft. She had ardently stuck to her daily regimen every day since the Garden had departed Fisherman's Horizon, despite Squall's current unavailability. Although Quistis tended to drop in and out intermittently to check up on her, each session had now effectively become a do-it-yourself affair for her. The new sense of individuality this change brought suited her just fine. Even with the absence of a proper instructor to offer her advice and critique, she could tell her ability to command the Guardian Force was growing exponentially by the day. Neither did she require protection from the local fauna anymore; with food supplies still running low, the training center's wildlife population had already been hunted to near extinction.

Besides her sphere's natural disposition to water, Rinoa had not been one to shy away from the other varieties of spellcraft Squall had shown her. Erecting a defensive barrier had practically become second-nature to her, though she would still always start each day with ten to fifteen minutes devoted exclusively to it as a warm-up routine. Furthermore, whenever she felt the water was quite literally running dry, the very next item on her agenda would be practice with wind conjuration. The process of channeling the energy into her legs as Squall had demonstrated still perplexed her, though her arms ultimately proved to be no more challenging than her standard element. With enough focus and determination, she had managed to send several reasonably strong gusts careening across the clearing, causing the leaves of the trees clustered all around to whip wildly. She was sure Squall would be thoroughly impressed by the amount of progress she had already made, regardless of whether or not he would admit it.

Any yet, despite the satisfaction it filled her with, she longed for something more. To be able to effectively utilize the Guardian Force's power for the purpose of basic offensive and defensive spellcraft was adequate for the time being. If she were to truly master its usage however, she knew she would eventually need to shift her focus to summoning the creature whose essence was tied to the sphere. She remembered the awe she had felt when the towering sea serpent had burst into being right before her eyes. Not even Squall's own horned demon had been able to stand up to its sheer might. She had brought it up to him at one point over the course of the first two weeks, only to be told it would likely be at least a year until she reached the necessary level of expertise. She could accept it would not be an easy task to achieve, but had at least hoped he would give her an inkling as to how the process worked.

For the moment however, she was content to make due with what knowledge she had to further her training. She concentrated the energy into her palm as she had innumerable times before, feeling the rush of the torrent begin to flow through her arm. The next second, it shot out as if from a fire hose, soaring clear across the pond to just barely reach the outer rim of trees. Her range had seemingly increased yet again. She chuckled to herself as she recalled how ecstatic she had been to form only a light spray just weeks ago. With such irrefutable evidence to go by, it surely wouldn't be long before she had earned her place on the battlefield.

"Nice one!"

Rinoa jumped at the sudden congratulations and spun around. The girl's brilliant yellow overall-skirt combo was as glaring a contrast from the surrounding greenery as could be. Her brown boots were significantly more appropriate, carrying her over to talk with a distinct spring in her step.

"It's hard to believe you really just started less than a month ago," Selphie admired her work. "It sure didn't come to me that easy, at first."

"I wouldn't say it's _easy_ ," Rinoa modestly downplayed the praise. "I think I just lucked out, having the right guy to show me the ropes and all."

"That's… a good point," the girl conceded. "Kinda makes me wish I'd had someone like that to help me out in the beginning. Either way, keep up the good work! The rate you're going, maybe someday you'll be showing _me_ a thing or two."

"Thanks for the morale boost," she smiled. "But right now, I'm just hoping to one day get on the same level as you all. I'm not even sure how to pull off a summon yet."

"Yeah, that one's gonna take time. Took me like… a year-and-a-half, maybe? At least to be able to sustain it for more than a couple of seconds, anyway. _That's_ the tricky part."

Selphie quickly rummaged through one of her pockets, and fished out a sphere of her own. Rinoa stared at the GF with a moment's confusion as it was brought into full view; its bronze outer casing was a definite contrast to the muted silver of her own and Squall's. The brilliant white light which began to seep out as the halves parted was likewise far more radiant, leading her to ponder which particular element was tied to Selphie's sphere. She momentarily considered lightning, when she suddenly recalled the passing mention Quistis had made in the D-District Prison.

* * *

" _I've never seen_ anyone _other than Commandant Xu utilize holy spellcraft like that before," Quistis commented from her side, re-directing her eyes toward her. "And for that matter, I don't remember there ever being another GF with that kind of elemental disposition on record."_

" _Yeah, I guess I kinda won the lottery there, huh?" she acknowledged the comment. "For all the good it does us right now."_

* * *

Rinoa watched on with bated breath as the same shimmering light essence was cast from her hand. The amorphous glow quickly took shape on the grass, just as she remembered it having done so on the train when Selphie had summoned her familiar to dispatch the grotesque body double. The recognizable rabbit-like ears soon outstretched from its head to complete the vague silhouette, before a flash of light prompted her to shield her eyes from the glare. When she brought her arm back down again, the transformation was complete. A coat of short pale green fur now covered the formerly luminous creature, offset only by the bulging ruby gemstone ingrained above its beady black eyes. At roughly two feet tall standing upright on its hind legs, Rinoa could not help but let out a coo of adoration at its sheer cuteness.

"He's friendly," Selphie assured her, not appearing visibly discomforted by sustaining the summon. "Just as long as you don't make yourself out to be a threat."

Heeding her precaution, Rinoa gingerly approached the fidgeting rabbit and slowly extended her arm down to pat its head. As her palm and fingers met its fluffy mane, she was amazed by the warmth and softness she felt. For a purely ethereal presence conjured into being through vast quantities of energy, the sensation of touch was remarkably realistic. It was enough to make her wonder just what the true nature of the energy contained within each sphere was, and how every one happened to have its own unique entity tied to it.

"After I finally learned how to do it, I would always bring him out whenever I got really lonely," the girl explained. "You know, just to have a little company, and something cute to snuggle up with if I was ever feeling down."

"It was the same for me and Angelo," Rinoa smiled, silently hoping that she would get to see her beloved dog again one day.

"Only problem is, it really starts to take it out of you after a couple of minutes," Selphie sighed. On cue, the adorable rabbit's coat began to illuminate, slowly reverting to its previous sheen of pure white. Rinoa stepped back and shielded her eyes again. In a flash, the creature was gone, leaving the two girls by themselves in the midst of the clearing once more.

"And just like that, I'd be all by my lonesome again," she quietly muttered. "But, hey, that's just how life is sometimes, right?"

"I… guess," Rinoa awkwardly agreed. She quickly set aside her initial compulsion to ask Selphie for assistance, realizing that something was clearly amiss about the girl's current demeanor. That her previous statement almost sounded akin to something she would expect to hear from Squall was enough reason for concern.

"So, what brings you here?" she redirected the topic of the conversation.

"Just thought I'd take a little hike to clear my head," Selphie explained. "You know, get some… well, the closest thing to fresh air I can. It helps me to think."

"About what?"

"Well, just all this crazy stuff that's been going on. About everything that's happened around here since me and the guys have been away. About this whole war. About-"

"Trabia?" Rinoa interjected. Selphie's eyes widened the instant the elephant in the room was brought up. She abruptly looked down to her feet, her body language now without question betraying the nervousness she felt.

"That's… that's the one thing I _don't_ want to think about," she stammered, all traces of her usual happy-go-lucky facade falling away completely. "It was about all I could for the two weeks before we got back, and I've been trying really hard not to since then."

"That's not good for you," Rinoa sternly insisted. "Living in denial isn't going to magically make everything better."

"I know that. It's just… I can't even tell you how happy I was when this place came crashing into Fisherman's Horizon that day. It was like a huge weight came off my shoulders. I _didn't_ fail Balamb Garden, after all. That's what really gave me the motivation to get the festival organized, and I'm glad it went over so well. But… whenever I start thinking about Trabia…"

She remained completely still, seemingly at a loss for words. If she continued to speak any at all, they were too faint and breathy for Rinoa's ears to pick up.

"It's hard," she sympathized with her. "It was the same for me when I thought Seifer had been executed. Before… well, everything went to hell. It was hard for me to come to terms with, but I knew it was the only way for me to move on with my life. So, how about this: when Squall gets back from from town, we'll tell him about it, and see if he can put in a word to the commandant about heading up there to survey the situation. If nothing else, it'll give you the closure you need. Better to know what's happened than to keep yourself in the dark forever, right?"

Selphie remained standing still with her head craned down to the soil below her feet. Gradually, her right arm alone began to raise itself up before her, appearing as though she were a marionette tied to invisible strings.

"It's… It's bad enough not knowing what's happened to the people you love," she mewled in a broken voice, her eyes fixed firmly to the bronze sphere she still held clenched in her hand. "That's a feeling I already know too well. But… actually going there, and having to see it all with my own eyes… it's too much. And when I think that it's all my fault… for not being fast enough…"

The tears began to roll down her cheeks before she could finish. Rinoa stepped forward as soon as she noticed them, and wrapped Selphie in a tight embrace. The heartbroken girl began to bawl in her arms, bringing her own around Rinoa's back and resting her chin on her shoulder. The two stood locked together for minutes on end, Selphie proceeding to let out every ounce of pent up frustration and sadness she had no doubt kept bottled up for weeks on end. All the while Rinoa remained the caring, gentle confidant she understood she needed to be, just as she had been for Squall on the night of the festival.

"It's not your fault," she finally reassured her. "You did everything you could. You're one of the strongest people I've ever known, and a real inspiration. To all of us. So, please, don't cry. We'll be right by your side when we get there, and whatever we find, we'll face it together. I promise."

Selphie sniffled beside her ear, and finally withdrew herself from the embrace. She wiped away the last of the tears from her puffy eyes, and turned them to Rinoa's again.

"You mean it?" she looked to her with hope.

"Of course, I do," Rinoa affirmed with a smile. "As soon as Squall gets back, we'll set course for Trabia right away. I'll tell him it's an order from his client if I have to."

In reality, she had already discussed the details of canceling the contract with Cid, and knew better than to expect Squall would still hold himself to such an obligation even if she hadn't in lieu of his new appointment. All the same, she figured the quip would at least help to lighten Selphie's spirits. Like clockwork, a faint smirk crossed her lips.

"You know, you still haven't told me how things went that night," she reminded her. Rinoa felt her face become flush at the comment, caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject.

"Er, well, um… it went fine," she stumbled over herself. "Nothing major."

"Oh, come on, spill it!" Selphie pouted. "I want dirt!"

 _There's the Selphie I know._

"Really, it was nothing big," she insisted, unable to resist letting a chuckle of relief seep into her words. "I just told him what we talked about, we danced, and watched the bands play together. That's it."

"Well, it's a good start," the girl smiled in return. Her momentary loss of composure appeared to have finally passed, leaving her looking significantly more radiant than when she had first strolled up.

"And how about you and the lone gunman?" she fired a taste of the girl's own medicine back at her. On cue, she too blushed embarrassingly.

"N-not much different," she responded in kind. "Anyway, thanks for listening, and for the pep-talk. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Well, if you're not too busy, I could probably still use a training partner," Rinoa hinted.

"Say no more!" Selphie agreed to the request on the spot.

"Thanks," she grinned. "And, actually… maybe there's one other thing you and the others could help me with…"

* * *

The gentle ocean breeze and the fresh scent of saltwater were more refreshing now than Zell could ever recall. He had lived by the Balamb seashore for as long as he could remember, and had long since become acclimated to its familiar elements. His prior month abroad, half of which he had spent living in disguise right under the nose of the enemy, had put into perspective just how easily he had come to take such simple comforts for granted. Though the state of affairs in town had changed drastically in the time since, he could at the very least take solace in his mother's safety. Having freshly changed out of the Galbadian uniform and into a set of his own clothes, he had left the house well in advance of the others and made his way down to the shoreline as they had discussed.

Much like the wind whipping through his spiked blonde locks and the light spray of water licking at his exposed ankles, the lengthy slab of metal he balanced upon was a source of sentimentality unto itself. It had been just as long since he had last ridden one of his T-Boards, before the one he had kept in his room at the Garden had been confiscated the evening they had set out for Timber. Both had been a product of his own handiwork, constructed and specially modified to suit his recreational desires. Capable of function over land and water alike, the board was kept perpetually aloft by a pair of turbine engines ingrained into the fore and rear, both powered by the generator fixed behind his right heel. The accelerator was set at the front, to be manually controlled with his left foot. The absence of a corresponding brake pedal necessitated that he be mindful of his speed at all times to avoid potential collisions. He presently kept his foot floored to the board, kicking up a trail of waves across the shallows as he sped toward the docks just ahead.

A looming bronze-skinned man was seated on the nearest pier jutting out from the waterfront, a fishing rod clasped in his hands as he rested with his back up against the right-hand post. He visibly stirred as the sound of the turbine engines drew closer, and swiftly sat upright. His bearded face darted to and fro, all about the surrounding area to deduce its origin, only settling on Zell as he made his final approach. Deftly maneuvering himself around the fishing line, he sped along the inside and bent his knees down to dip his gloved right hand into the ocean. He splashed the saltwater squarely into the man's face as he ripped on past, only then releasing his foot from the accelerator and pivoting back around to face him.

"What the hell!?" Raijin angrily shouted, dropping the rod as he shook the wetness away. His upper body bore no clothing other than his signature vest, left unbuttoned to prominently expose his abdominal muscles. Though his wardrobe was not any worse for wear from the unexpected soaking, his glowering stare radiated sheer fury all the same as it landed on Zell.

"Long time no see, _y'know_?" the blonde irately greeted him as he drifted closer. "You and your pals better start packin' and get the hell outta my town, if you know what's good for you!"

"Well, if it ain't the _chicken-wuss_!" the hulking bronze giant shot back from the pier as he reached down to take hold of his over-sized fighting staff. "Seifer told us to give you guys a whoopin' if we saw you, y'know? Get up here so I can knock that spiked head o' yours off!"

"Hey, not so rough, ya hear?" Zell taunted him with a finger raised to his temple. "Lotta info stored up here you might want. Like, say, where Ellone's hiding out."

Raijin's menacing eyes bulged at the bluff, just as Squall had predicted. Not waiting for a response, Zell tilted his T-Board in the direction of the docks and flashed him a knowing smirk, silently daring him to follow after. He floored the pedal again, sending him lurching forward toward the seemingly impassable raised waterfront. Carefully maneuvering his right foot at the rear of the board into position, he depressed a small switch with his heel and braced for lift off. The board shot up vertically as it neared the stone barrier, carried over and onto the docks courtesy of a sudden burst of additional thrust from the turbines on the underside. Zell stuck the landing as he had practiced countless times over the years, and tore off down the stretch back in the direction of the town.

He momentarily took his eyes from directly ahead to glance back over his shoulder. A fair ways behind, the towering muscle-head charged after him, his boots pounding rapidly along the docks. Even weighed down by the staff now fixed to his back, the sheer speed with which he moved was intimidating. While Zell knew that their plan necessitated that he not completely outrun Raijin, he found it hard to justify taking his foot much further off the accelerator. Had the chase been on foot, he would surely have caught up to him already.

The T-Board zigged and zagged along the waterfront, Zell before long making a sharp turn up the winding roadway leading into town. The street remained completely free of traffic all along its length, as it doubtless had for the last several days since Galbadia's arrival. Only once he swung around the corner and emerged onto to the straightaway upon which the Balamb Hotel sat were there finally a contingent of soldiers for him to dodge. He ignored their frenzied demands for him to pull over, blowing by them without a second thought. Turning his head back again, he saw the rampaging captain come careening down the street, himself nearly bowling over the congregation of stationed guards. He cracked a smile as he watched the soldiers stumble to right themselves, utterly taken aback by the intensity with which their 'captain' gave chase. Should they head inside to inform the 'commander' of the situation, it would all but certainly serve to draw her out into the open.

 _All according to plan, so far…_

He continued to lure Raijin along the roadway up to where it intersected by his own house, and abruptly turned down the opposing road leading further into the heart of the town. He flew by roughly two dozen infantrymen and sorceress knights along the way, very nearly slamming into a fair few as he navigated each closely cut corner. The buildings on either side melded together in his peripheral vision, rendered barely distinguishable from one another after a short while; his long-time familiarity with the town's layout was all he had to guide him onward to the designated rendezvous point. With each cursory glance behind, he saw the fearsome blowhard come barreling after at top speed, taking no more care in avoiding his comrades lining the streets than those outside the hotel. Though the anxiety could not compare to when the terrifying spider-robot had trailed him and his squadmates down from the Dollet communication tower, the commotion wrought reminded him of the prior close brush with death all the same.

At last, he turned the corner into a dead end alleyway, and took his foot off the gas to slow himself. The T-Board gradually decelerated as it continued along past the dumpsters and assorted piles of trash lining either side, swiveling back around at Zell's command to face the entrance. He stepped off with one foot onto the grime-covered cobblestone, killed the ignition with his other, and kicked up the board into one hand just as Raijin came around the corner to face him. A pair of armed Galbadian soldiers followed him into the narrow alley from behind, precisely the number Zell had hoped to see.

Having already begun channeling the GF's energy into his arm in advance, he forcefully slammed his clenched fist down just before him. The ground shook as the steel knuckles of his glove connected, prompting a small faultline to erupt and begin snaking its way forward like a fuse. Raijin halted in his tracks as the gap passed directly between his legs. The two infantrymen to his rear casually sidestepped to either wall of the alley, seemingly unsurprised by the sudden conjuration. As the crease finally reached the intersection with the road from where they had entered, Zell willed the energy to surge upward. At his command, the ground violently sprung up to form an earthen barricade, barring all passage in or out of the alley. Raijin craned his neck back to the newly erected wall of hardened soil that had trapped him, smothered in a billowing cloud of residual dust. With his face presently turned away, Zell was left to imagine his look of shock as the two infantrymen suddenly trained their weapons on him.

"Hands up!" the nearest one ordered the hulking captain. "Get down on yer knees, an' don't move a muscle!"

After a moment of what looked to be disbelief on Raijin's part, he quickly complied to the demand. He turned his attention back toward Zell, placed his hands over his head, and lowered himself to his knees. The incognito soldier approached the kneeling captive, keeping his weapon trained to him with one hand as he gestured to his comrade to take the fighting staff strapped to his back. The second soldier stepped forward, gingerly holding one of Zell's grandfather's rifles in his grasp, his body language betraying a noticeable lack of assertiveness. That the old-fashioned weapon held no ammunition was one explanation for his hesitation. That he was in fact an untested cadet without experience in the field was another. As he reached forward to take hold of the staff, Raijin's right leg abruptly shot out.

The sweeping kick traveled in a full one-hundred-eighty degree arc in the blink of an eye. The pair of infantrymen toppled from their feet with a single united cry, inciting Zell into action. He cast aside the T-Board from his left hand and charged into battle, just as Raijin hefted the staff into his grip. In preparation for the inevitable clash, Zell conjured a set of earthen gauntlets to surround his fists and leapt forward to engage. His first two jabs were deflected with ease, the sturdy construction of the fighting staff not budging in the face of his amplified strength. It came whirling around the next moment from the side, prompting him to raise his left gauntlet for a block. The impact was immense, forcing Zell to bear down as his sneakers skidded several inches across the ground. He immediately followed with a right hook before Raijin could release himself from the parry, provoking him to step backward out of range of the blow.

As the fist whizzed harmlessly through the air, Raijin glanced back over his shoulder to see the pair of soldiers both rise from the tumble they had taken. He began to turn back in their direction, whirling his staff wildly to keep Zell at bay, when a third suddenly fell from the sky directly into the divide between them. A clanging of steel echoed throughout the sealed alley as the newly arrived soldier's gunblade halted the spinning weapon in mid-motion.

"Drop it!" the swordsman sternly commanded. "You're outnumbered, with nowhere to run. Just do as we say, and nobody has to get hurt."

The two stood locked in a stalemate for several moments, Zell taking the opportunity to further encroach on Raijin's rear so as to severely limit his mobility. Flanked in both the front and back as he was, it should have been obvious that he could not hope to singlehandedly fight his way out of this ambush. Seeming to recognize this, the toned muscleman begrudgingly released his hold on the staff, allowing it to fall to the litter-strewn ground below. Zell placed a single magically reinforced gauntlet on his upper back and forced him to his knees once again, holding him in place as Squall removed his helmet. Irvine and Collin maneuvered themselves around him in either direction, both keeping their respective weapons fixed to Raijin from either side of the alley.

"Dammit", he cursed his luck as Irvine knelt down to secure his forfeited weapon. "It's jus' not fair, y'know?"

"If you want to make it out of this in one piece, then answer my questions," the swordsman menaced, lowering his blade to where it hovered threateningly beside his neck. "Why have you decided to swear your allegiance to the sorceress?"

"Get real!" he spat in defiance. "Me an' Fujin don't give a rat's ass 'bout her, y'know? We're only in this for Seifer's sake."

"What's the fucking difference!?" Zell raged, strengthening the pressure he exerted on Raijin's back to force him down further. "This thick-headed loyalty you've got for that guy has to stop, now! Can't you understand that he's lost his mind?"

"Even if he has, we still gotta-"

His explanation was cut short by a sudden explosion. Zell's eyes shot up from Raijin's kneeling figure to the makeshift barricade he had erected at the alleyway entrance. Large chunks of dirt and cobblestone shot forth from a newly incised opening, followed by a small platoon of three infantrymen and two knights. Each stepped forward one after the other into the narrow, cramped alley and froze on the spot as they took notice of the hostage situation in progress. That a pair of fully outfitted Galbadian soldiers had likewise drawn their weapons on the captain was perhaps the most perplexing element of all for them to rationalize. As the squadron spread out from one another as far as they were able, a sixth figure stepped forward into the fray from the streets. Her lone functional eye swiveled back and forth beneath her head of silver hair, widened in shock to find her second in command in such a state of affairs.

"Tell them to wait outside," Squall craned his neck back to address Fujin, his gublade still held inches from Raijin's throat. "We're just looking to talk."

The terse young woman stood motionless for several contemplative moments, before finally gesturing for the platoon to exit back through the hole. One by one, they obeyed, taking their leave from the alley as quickly as they had filed into it. As soon as the last had extricated himself, she turned her menacing glare back to the scene at hand, her face rife with anger.

"Release!" she ordered in her usual absurdly concise manner.

"Not until we get an explanation," Squall countered, keeping his sword close to Raijin's neck as he circled around so as to more comfortably face her. "I don't care what way you two try to dress it up, siding with Seifer is siding with the sorceress."

"False!" Fujin denied the allegation.

"Then why are you doing her bidding? How can you be alright with holding this town hostage?"

"You think we enjoy this!?" Raijin exploded. "Don't go gettin' things twisted, y'know? Seifer put us in charge o' this town, an' told us to keep an eye out for this 'Ellone' girl. An' when we took that responsibility, the first thing we did was tell all the troops they couldn't put a finger on the townspeople 'less they get permission straight from us. They wanted to round everybody up for interrogation, y'know? We said that wasn't right, and we weren't gonna stand for it. We knew if we were gonna do this, we were gonna try an' make it as painless as possible for everyone here, y'know?"

"Tell that to this guy standing right here!" Zell motioned to Collin by his side. "What about him, and all the other Garden students you've been hunting down for days? His shelter family was nearly executed this morning for hiding him!"

"That's not on us, y'know?" Raijin pleaded. "Seifer's the one who gave the order for all the knights to go after them. We don't got the authority to go against that, y'know?"

"Yes, you do!" Squall vigorously insisted, his usually stoic face becoming more fraught with emotion than Zell had ever seen it before. "You can put your foot down and tell him how you really feel about it. You're not obligated to follow Seifer in every single thing he does."

"Choice," Fujin quipped in return.

"So, you know it's wrong but decided to go along with it anyway, huh?" Zell muttered with disgust. The temptation to slam Raijin into the pavement with all the might of his Guardian Force was now almost too much to resist.

"Jus' listen to me," Raijin begged, obviously straining under the weight of Zell's constant pressure. "We're not followin' him because we have to, y'know? We do it because we're his friends… his _only_ friends."

"Aw, aint' that sweet," Irvine sarcastically growled through gritted teeth.

"Truth!" Fujin insisted.

"Yeah, I mean, jus' think about it. Seifer has a lotta followers now, but we're still his only friends. We're a posse, y'know? The soldiers and the knights, they only go along with him because they're afraid of the sorceress. Without us, Seifer wouldn't have his posse. He wouldn't have anyone to help him keep bein' the guy we know he is, deep down, y'know? You don't gotta tell us this sorceress lady's bad news. We jus' wanna make sure Seifer doesn't lose who he is along the way. We're friends, and sometimes friends do things they don't want to for each other, y'know?"

"Yeah, I _do_ know," Squall cut him short. Zell momentarily shifted his attention away from Raijin at his words, amazed they had indeed come from the man widely regarded as the temperamental lone wolf of Balamb Garden.

"What I _want_ to know is why if you stand behind him so much, you just go along with all this like it's nothing!" he continued to admonish them. "If you really believe he's still the same friend you've always known, then you need to be the ones to help turn him back from this road he's started down. Take a stand for what you believe is right. Order the army to withdraw from town, and tell him he needs to stop this nonsense! Either that, or we bring in SeeD and do a clean sweep."

Squall's ultimatum hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time. Zell swiveled his eyes between Raijin below him, Collin and Irvine on either side, Squall to his fore, and Fujin standing still as a statue by the hole in the wall. He could reasonably expect that a force far greater in scale than the small regiment that had initially come through lay in waiting on the other side. Given that the threat to bring in the entire SeeD army to retake Balamb was contingent on their escape, he mentally prepared himself for the fight of his life should Fujin refuse to listen. While it was entirely likely that Squall had made arrangements with the commandant to send in reinforcements after a set amount of time had passed, such a prospect did not guarantee they would live to see it come to fruition. The silence remained for several awkward moments before Squall spoke again.

"Ellone isn't in this town, that I can tell you for a fact. You have nothing to gain by keeping your forces stationed here. Tell your men, and order they withdraw back to Galbadia aboard the intercontinental line. It'll save a lot of unnecessary bloodshed, and based on what you've told us, I get the impression you'd want to avoid that, too."

Fujin's eye, downcast to the ground in contemplation, finally rolled upward to meet his. She promptly snapped to attention and performed the Garden salute.

"Affirmative."

"Yeah, we ain't lookin' to turn this place into a war zone, y'know?" Raijin agreed. "If that's what it's gonna take, then fine. We ditch this place, an' you guys don't follow after, y'know?"

"Sure thing," Squall accepted the terms. "So, for the record… you and the others want nothing to do with Balamb Garden now? If it comes down to this again, we're not going to hold back, understand?"

"I guess we'll see what the future holds, y'know?"

Appearing satisfied enough by the response, Squall finally motioned to Zell for him to release his hold on Raijin. He complied, allowing the hulking man to finally rise to his feet. Irvine and Collin likewise lowered their weapons, the former handing the guard staff back to him.

"Three days," Squall firmly set the time constraint. "We'll be back to check in on this place. If you're not gone by then, we bring in the troops."

"Fair," Fujin agreed.

"Yeah, don't worry 'bout us, y'know?" Raijin insisted. "We'll be gone by tomorrow."

" _I'll_ hold you to that one," Zell remarked.

He disengaged his conjured gauntlets and turned back along the alley to retrieve his T-Board. Placing the heavy slab of metal under his arm, he followed his fellow Garden operatives both current and former out through the hole in the raised earthen barricade. As he stepped on through, his eyes bulged at the sheer amount of infantry and knights crowding the vicinity, easily thirty or more with their weapons all raised to them.

"Listen up!" Raijin announced. "Everybody stand down. We've had a good little chat, y'know? Turns out we were lookin' in the wrong place all this time. This town's clean. So, start packin' your stuff, 'cause we're headin' back to Galbadia tomorrow mornin'!"

The congregation of troops lowered their arms as commanded, and began to mutter with confusion among one another. Evidently none could believe the words their newly appointed captain had just spoken to them.

"Dismissed!" the commander belted at the top of her lungs, startling many among them.

"Yeah, move your asses! Go, go, go!"

Soldiers and knights alike scattered as Raijin began to twirl his staff every which way, just barely missing several of those who had been standing on the inner rim. Zell stifled a chuckle at the unwieldy and downright brutish manner in which he enforced the rule of law. Given the remarkably quick reaction time of many among them, he could guess it was not their first time having been shepherded about in this fashion. Not waiting for express permission of his own, Squall donned his helmet once again and began back down the street.

"You sure 'bout this?" Irvine asked him skeptically. "You're really alright with jus' lettin' 'em go like that?"

"They genuinely believe they can bring Seifer back to his senses," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm not so sure it can be done, but… if there's anyone who could…"

He trailed off without bothering to finish his thoughts, instead gesturing for the three to follow after him. Zell fell in line, likewise taken aback by just how determined Fujin and Raijin were to become Seifer's source of salvation on the dark path he had chosen. Almost equally as startling to him however, was that for what animosity had been shared between them even before the emergence of Sorceress Edea, Squall was still willing to hedge his bets on a chance, however slim, that he could be saved. The lone wolf of Balamb Garden, who had routinely presented himself as a self-absorbed, uncaring husk of human being for as long as Zell had known him, had for a brief instant shown genuine concern for his sworn rival's fate. It was perhaps the most remarkable change of heart he had ever seen, and he intuitively knew without a doubt to who it was owed.

 _I swear, before this is all over, I'm gonna make sure those two get together…_


	37. Chapter 15 - Ruins in the Snow

15

 **CHAPTER 15 – RUINS IN THE SNOW**

The vast field of flowers stretched on for untold acres in every direction. Innumerable petals of brilliant yellow shone in the beaming midday sunlight, all appearing as if bestowed with a heavenly splendor. It was a breathtaking sight to behold, a rare display of nature's true beauty left undisturbed by man, save for a pair of worn white stone buildings erected in the distance. Laguna sucked in a breath of crisp spring air through his nostrils as he continued to admire the marvelous landscape, now more thankful than ever that he had never been susceptible to pollen allergies. It might very well have been the most tranquil place in the world; at the very least it was beyond anywhere else he had visited thus far in his tenure as a travel journalist, and a perfect locale as any to cap off his career.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been content to take his time, basking in the wonderful scenery for the remainder of the day before taking his leave to write his report. These were far from normal circumstances, however. He realized that for every moment he stood idly by in the midst of such awe inspiring beauty, Ellone remained in captivity, subjected to who knows what kind of treatment from her kidnappers with each passing day. Had only his boss in Timber been as understanding, he would have already been on his way into Esthar with Kiros and Ward at his side. A desperate need for additional traveling money to make the journey comfortably had necessitated he undertake one final assignment. The thought of returning to Winhill to ask Raine to spare some of her own savings had crossed his mind, and yet he could not in good conscience bring himself to do so; he knew that she would undoubtedly need every gil to support herself in his absence. Moreover, he had sworn to her that he would return with their daughter, a promise he intended to keep. To face her again without Ellone at his side would be unacceptable.

Finally tearing his focus away from the wonder before him, Laguna cut across the field of flowers toward the solitary settlement on its rim. Even at a distance, its architecture implied it to be a remnant from the age of the Holy Dollet Empire; its stone pillars were unmistakably reminiscent of the Tomb of the Unknown King outside of Deling City. It appeared to have been long since abandoned, its formerly sterling facade ensnared by thick ivy and overgrowth in the however many years since its construction. He could not guess as to what purpose this quaint hamlet might have served in its time, situated on a lone island so far south of the capital as it was. As he drew closer, he noted the top of a lighthouse poking out over the main building, and realized he was indeed approaching the island's northernmost edge. He had rented a motorboat from the coastal city of Torama roughly thirty miles northeast, coming ashore on the eastern side.

Only as he brought his eyes back down to survey the ground level did he suddenly realize the building was not abandoned after all. A lone woman outfitted in a plain black dress knelt before a quaint garden on the rim of the flower field, tending to the assortment of produce growing within the enclosure. Her long flowing hair perfectly matched her dark, drab attire, the only contrast coming via her slender pale arms. A small wooden basket hung from her left, presently filled with several tomatoes, a single ear of corn, and two heads of lettuce. By the time he had drawn close enough to count, she had taken notice of his approach and raised her head to him. She was quite young, likely in her early-to-mid twenties, green-eyed and remarkably pretty. He halted in his tracks as her mouth furrowed into a frown, and put one arm up to indicate he came in peace.

"Hi," he casually greeted her with a smile. Her frown did not waver.

"Hello," she returned the greeting with an apprehensive tone. She gingerly set her basket down and raised herself from her knees, brushing off the residual dirt from her dress.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," Laguna bashfully apologized, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. "I didn't realize anybody lived all the way out here."

"May I ask what exactly brings you to this island?" she bluntly put forth the question he had been expecting. Laguna lowered his arm and cleared his throat, preparing to put forth the best air of professionalism he could in his explanation. It was very clear to him that this woman was not one who took kindly to unsolicited visitors.

"I'm a travel journalist," he began formally. "I work for a fairly well known publication company, Timber Maniacs. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"I can't say that I have," she answered frankly, her eyes drifting to the soil beneath her plain black shoes. "But then, it's been so long since I've been back to the mainland, it shouldn't be surprising. My husband is the one who keeps me up to date with everything that's going on in the world, and even then, only when he comes home on his vacations."

Laguna could not help but feel slightly taken aback by her admission. The notion that she had lived for so long confined to this single island was difficult to fathom. Though a part of him had likewise longed to remain in Winhill indefinitely in the time since he had first arrived, it had been a desire wholly contingent on having Raine and Ellone there to come home to every day.

"You mean… you live here all by yourself?" he delicately asked. "That… must get very lonely."

"It does," she affirmed with a sigh.

"To be fair," Laguna quickly fumbled for something to rid the conversation of such a depressing overtone. "If I was surrounded by all this every day, I probably wouldn't want to go anywhere else, either."

"You didn't answer my question," she reminded him, bringing her eyes back up to face his. "Why have you come here?"

"Well… like I said, I'm a journalist. I've been traveling all over for the last year or so, writing articles about all the different places I've been to, and publishing them through Timber Maniacs. Due to some… unexpected family circumstances, I'm going to have to temporarily put my career on hold. The problem is, I'm a little short on funds, so I asked my boss if he could give me my yearly bonus in advance. He told me I have to give him one more article before he'd be willing to make an exception like that, so I had to find somewhere new to cover, fast. I'd never been out to this island before – even though my home's just a couple hours north from the shore on the mainland – and I figured it'd be as good a place as any to wrap things up. And I have to say, it's completely blown my expectations out of the water."

The young woman did not respond immediately, instead appearing to size him up as her gaze flickered over his body. Laguna remained completely still, wondering just what could be going through her head.

"I see," she finally murmured lightly, turning her head away. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but… could you please find somewhere else to write your article about? Suffice it to say, I have my reasons for keeping myself distanced from the mainland, and I just know that having this island publicized will only bring unwelcome attention."

Laguna's tongue caught in his throat as he fought to process the refusal. On one hand, he could sympathize with her aversion to any potential large scale tourism, even if he could not understand why she seemed so intent on self-isolation. It was for that very reason that he had decided against writing an article about Winhill. With Ellone in dire need of rescuing however, and his chances of ever seeing her again slipping away by the day, he could not afford to waste time searching for another locale.

"I can understand why you'd be wary of that sort of thing," he attempted to negotiate. "But I really need to get this assignment finished as soon as possible. This family situation I'm dealing with is a _very_ serious one."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but my answer is final," she brushed his concerns off. She reached down to retrieve her basket of fresh produce and swiveled on her heel to start back to her house.

"I ask that you please respect my wishes. I'm sure the few days it will take you to find some place else won't hurt. Good day, sir."

"Wait!" Laguna blurted out in a frenzy. "Please, I'm begging you! You don't understand! I desperately need to get moving now! I need to find a way into Esthar as fast as I can!"

" _Esthar_!?"

The woman in black suddenly stopped in her tracks and swung back around at frightful speed. Her face, previously so calm and unfazed, now showed only disbelief.

"Why in the world would you ever want to go _there_?" she incredulously asked him.

He hesitated before answering, pondering if he truly ought to be divulging something so personal to a complete stranger. It was not for fear that she would tell anyone; her self-admitted devotion to keeping away from the world at large assured him of that, nor did she seem untrustworthy. It was the principle of the matter which he found himself hung up on. Having already carried such hefty emotional baggage himself for the previous two weeks, he did not wish to place it on the shoulders of anyone else without good reason. After a moment's deliberation, he deemed that if there was a possibility it could help convince her to let him write his article about the island, it was worth a chance.

"A couple of weeks ago, Esthar sent a detachment of soldiers to my town. They… they took my daughter away."

"Your daughter!?" the woman repeated hysterically, now wide-eyed with shock. "They… don't tell me… she was taken to be Sorceress Adel's successor, wasn't she?"

"That's what I think, too," he sighed, tilting his head down to his boots. "And I'm determined to get her back, no matter what the cost. That's why I need to get a move on as quick as I can. Who knows what they've been doing to her all this time? I miss her… so, so much. I just wish I could hear her voice again…"

Tears began to well up in his eyes, Laguna only barely finding the strength to keep himself in control of his emotions. He knew if he allowed a single droplet to fall to the ground, so too would he be plunged back into the all-encompassing despair Kiros had managed to snap him out of.

"I… I understand," the woman finally murmured. Laguna craned his neck back up, noticing she too appeared distraught at having learned of his predicament.

"I've always longed to have children of my own. My husband and I have tried before, but… it's just not possible for us. I truly do envy the bond shared between a parent and their child, and can't even imagine just how painful it must be to have it ripped apart at the seams. I'm so sorry."

"I never thought I'd get to know what that bond's like, either," he spoke again, wiping the watery residue from his eyes. "It's strange, really… just a few years ago, I never could've seen myself as a father, or even an adoptive one. I was an unmotivated slacker, the guy who wanted the easy life. All I ever thought about was pursuing my own interests. Living life on my own terms, day in and day out, without any care for the future. But… ever since Ellone came into my life… suddenly I know exactly what it means to love someone unconditionally, and how putting that person's happiness and well-being over your own can really be the most rewarding thing of all. All along, I was looking for something to give my life real meaning, and I found it. I'd do anything for her, as if she were my own blood. As far as I'm concerned, she is!"

He stared into her eyes intensely, feeling his heart begin to pound as a righteous pride flared up inside him. In a sudden flash of intuition, he knew exactly the words this young woman had been waiting so long to hear spoken to her.

"There are far too many orphaned children out there, suffering. I've seen it firsthand plenty of times, back when I served in the army. So, if you really feel like there's a hole in your heart… maybe taking one or two in will give you the fulfillment you're looking for. It was the best decision I ever made, and it's made me the man I am today."

She stood before him in silence, tears now welling in her own eyes. A moment later, it became clear she did not possess the same emotional resilience as he did to hold them back.

"I… I think you might be right," she stammered, the watery trails beginning to streak down her face. "It's been miserable living here all by myself. I've been here for so long… keeping myself shut off from the rest of the world… just letting my life pass by without purpose. But… maybe now I can find that purpose… by making a difference in other's lives."

Laguna smiled contently as she began to wipe away her tears with her free arm. For an instant, he recalled his last night spent with Julia, when she had told him of the inspiration he had given her to follow her dream of becoming a singer. He could only hope he had offered this young lady similar encouragement to pursue her own calling, and likewise reap the fruits of whatever it might bring her.

"I've changed my mind," she finally spoke, a smile of her own taking shape on her lips. "Write as much as you want about this place. Who knows? Maybe by the time word gets around to people… I'll have something to show them when they get here. Thank you so much. You've no idea how much you've helped me today. I really do hope you get your daughter back."

"I will," Laguna affirmed with certainty, flashing her a thumbs up. "And once I do, you can bet I'll bring her here to see the flowers. She'd love it."

The woman smiled, her face radiantly beaming as though she were touched by the same divine gift as the golden field seemed to be.

"I'll be looking forward to meeting her…"

* * *

"Man, did I miss these things!"

Squall raised his eyes from the cup of coffee and the remains of his early lunch resting on the cafeteria table. Zell had appeared by his side, presently sinking his teeth into a fresh hot dog smothered with relish and evidently unable to contain his excitement. It was undoubtedly not his first in the week since the Garden had managed to restock on food from their private supplier in Balamb, thought his sheer elation could have easily fooled most. Squall had been thankful moreso for a return to the standard portion sizes he was familiar with, without the need for increasingly sparse rationing among the student body. Although life as they had all known it would likely never be the same again, such a small yet significant return to normalcy was welcome.

"You'd think it was a gourmet meal," he muttered to himself with annoyance.

"Might as well be, the way we've been eating around here up 'till now," he insisted, taking the seat opposite him without waiting for an invitation. "Plus before, when we were undercover, making our way out to Fisherman's Horizon. Really makes you appreciate the little things in life. I can only imagine what it must be like for the new arrivals, after what they've been through."

"Or the survivors at Trabia," Squall quietly concurred. "Provided there are any left at this point."

Fujin and Raijin had reportedly kept to their word with remarkable efficiency; within the span of a single day, Balamb had been completely cleared of any trace of Galbadian occupation. According to the accounts from the SeeDs dispatched to survey the aftermath, the liberated townspeople had already begun celebrating in the streets upon their arrival. The remaining Garden loyalists holed up in the town had likewise come out of hiding, and promptly been shuttled back aboard later that same night along with the first shipment of provisions. If any defectors had remained behind to renege on their newfound knighthood, none dared to admit their short-lived act of treason.

Squall's mind had been fraught with uncertainty during his own squad's trip back to the Garden. Despite his own skepticism, he sincerely hoped that the pair would indeed be able to convince Seifer to turn back from his delusional madness. Whether or not they were successful would largely determine the next course of action for SeeD to take. Should he refuse to come to his senses, would the army be dispatched back to Balamb as quickly as they had vacated? In which case, the question was raised as to which would be the more prudent option: to remain stationary on the small island nation until the time they returned, or to set course for regions unknown in search of the mobile Galbadia Garden.

A third option, and the one which had ultimately been decided upon had been presented to him immediately upon his return. He had been approached by Rinoa and Selphie together, both of whom had pleaded for him to put in a word with the commandant to head north to where Trabia Garden had stood. Regardless as to the latter's affiliation with the academy, he understood that their alliance necessitated that SeeD act accordingly to ensure any survivors were extracted. He had mentioned as much to Xu when he had given her his squad's report, only to learn that it had in fact been the next order of business on the agenda all along. And so, after another two days spent stationed outside of Balamb to finish resupplying, and four more on the ocean bound for the northern continent, the Garden now gently crested across the Bika Snowfield. Its frosty plains passed on by through the cafeteria windows, still coated with snow even in the throes of spring time. The mere sight was enough to cause Squall's body to experience a subliminal chill, thereby making his steaming hot coffee all the more satisfying.

"Must be rough living up here in the winter," Zell observed the frigid scenery as he scarfed down the last of his hot dog. "Even now, it's gotta be uncomfortable without heating. I guess we've just gotta hope those guys were resourceful enough to keep themselves alive this long."

"That's given anybody survived the missiles to begin with," Squall reminded him, recalling the confirmation the White SeeDs had given of the strike's success.

"I just don't get what's going on here," Zell threw his hands up. "So, the sorceress is the headmaster's wife, and helped him establish SeeD in the first place, right? None of us knew anything about her for all these years – or at least _I_ didn't – and now all of a sudden she just up and decides she wants to burn it all down? It doesn't make any sense."

" _We_ didn't know about her," Squall agreed, gripping his coffee cup tighter. "But somehow, _that guy_ did… and I'm convinced Seifer must have, too. It's the only explanation I can think of for how he could throw his entire life away to serve her without any reservations."

"I still think he's been brainwashed," Zell offered his own take. "You saw what happened to everyone else in the square that night."

"I don't think so… he still acts too much like himself. The civilians that night were all practically mindless zombies. He's too self-aware to be just another one of them. When I think about the way he spoke to me in the prison, and based on the story Collin told us… there's got to be something he knows that none of us do. Well, all except _one_ of us."

Irvine had yet to provide the explanation he had promised Squall in Balamb, on the grounds that it was something all in their immediate retinue needed to hear. Though he had begrudgingly accepted the condition in the heat of the moment, he had expected the talk to come within a matter of days at the most. It had already been a full week, with seemingly no attempt whatsoever on the sharpshooter's part to organize such a gathering.

"Yeah, I keep bugging him to tell me what's up on the side," Zell admitted. "He just tells me it's 'not the right time, yet'. The suspense is killing me. Why's he have to be so cryptic about it?"

"Maybe he needs a little _incentive_ ," Squall menaced, setting his coffee back down on the table and rising up out of his chair. What little patience he had for Irvine's shiftiness had finally worn out.

"Hey, take it easy!" the blonde rose to meet him. "It's not _that_ big a deal. We're gonna be at Trabia soon, anyway, right? It'll be the perfect opportunity to get everyone together in one place. So, let's just cool it for the moment."

Quickly stifling the temptation to storm out of the cafeteria in search of the sharpshooter, Squall eased himself back down into his seat at Zell's request. He realized that their imminent arrival would indeed be an ideal time to organize their entourage. Moreover, as the newly ordained commandant-to-be, he now more than ever needed to maintain professional composure in front of his subordinates.

"As soon as we're all together on the ground, he's talking," Squall swore.

"Sure thing," Zell acceded to his intentions. "Just do me a favor and try to keep it civil when it happens."

"If you insist," he replied, taking another sip of coffee to calm himself.

"Cool. Oh, and if you'd be willing to do me another… do you think I could borrow that ring of yours?"

Squall resisted the urge to spit all over himself in surprise, fighting to keep the coffee on its intended course down his throat. When he had successfully managed to down it, he shifted his gaze to the ring in question, worn on his left hand resting on the table. The custom-made silver band was adorned with the face of a lion in mid-roar, the very same design as that on the pendant around his neck.

"Why?" Squall asked, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

"It just looks kinda cool," Zell nonchalantly brushed aside his question. "I promise I won't lose it, or anything. Please?"

"Not until you tell me what you need it for," he refused; the blonde's apparent naivete unsettled him, as did the unmistakable air that he was hiding something.

"Oh, come on, just trust me, will ya!? I'm not going to do anything weird or dangerous with it. I promise I'll give it back in a few days, good as new. So, just humor me this once, alright?"

He intuitively knew that Zell was up to no good, and that he ought to simply ignore whatever shenanigans he needed his ring to achieve. Knowing full well how relentlessly pestering he could be however, and that it was in fact only a minuscule piece of jewelry he was asking for, he reluctantly brought his hand up, and slipped the ring off of his finger into the palm of his right.

"I want this back with not so much as a scratch on it," he explicitly warned as he extended his arm out across the table.

"No problem," Zell beamed, catching it in his gloved hand as it was dropped from Squall's grasp. Rather than sliding it onto one of his own fingers, he instead placed it into a pocket on the fore of his jacket and pulled the zipper to ensure it would not fall out.

"Thanks, man," he grinned, rising from the table to take his leave as abruptly as he had strolled up. "Well, I've got some stuff to take care of before we arrive. I'll see ya when we touch down, I guess."

 _First Selphie, then Irvine, and now him… I am getting so sick of people keeping secrets from me…_

* * *

It was less than two hours before the devastated Trabia Garden finally came into sight. The destruction had been visible from the command bridge well before Balamb Garden had begun its landing procedure. The demolished and charred remains of the looming academy towered above all else in its vicinity, the shards of its shattered flotation ring appearing to be stuck into the snowy earth all around. Its dimensions were comparatively smaller to its Balamb and Galbadian counterparts by Squall's estimation, though no doubt had still played host to a student body numbering in the thousands. It was obvious to all that the number had been utterly decimated, though with the aid of a set of binoculars, he had managed to glimpse a reasonably large gathering of tiny specks scatter all over the premises at their approach.

Satisfied to learn that there were indeed survivors left for them to rescue, he had followed Xu's lead back down the elevator and to the parking garage. The outgoing first-response team had assembled as they had been ordered to over the intercom, and begun piling into their designated transports, the tires of each freshly equipped with snow treads so as to better traverse the surrounding terrain. Squall's usual entourage stood among them, all outfitted in their formal Garden attire; whether it were for the sake of professionalism or simply a means to better keep themselves warm, he could not tell. Even Irvine was dressed in a standard blue cadet uniform, having been abdicated to him in lieu of having no other clothes besides those he had appropriated at Fisherman's Horizon. He caught sight of Selphie as she filed into her vehicle, and noticed her face had taken on a dour look unlike any she had shown before.

 _This is going to be one of the hardest days of her life…_

Once all of the operatives had boarded their assigned transports, the motorcade swiftly rolled out of the garage and across the snowy plains. Seated in the passenger side of the commandant's leading vehicle as he was, Squall watched as the wide ring of scorched earth drew ever closer through the windshield. Though he had never visited Trabia Garden before, he could imagine its surroundings had been quite picturesque before tragedy had struck. The charred and splintered remains of dense forestry dotted the outer rim of the academy, bisected by the jagged and cracked roadway leading through. The transport jerked and lurched every which way as its treads painstakingly fought to surmount each and every crag along the way.

Before long, the ruined arched gateway leading onto the premises came into view. A congregation of survivors, all outfitted in matching grey cadet uniforms akin to Balamb's blue variant stood beneath, weapons drawn to form an impassible roadblock. The sole exception came by way of a lone, dark haired and middle-aged man standing at the fore, outfitted in what must have at one time been an elegant robe; its color had become faded with the accumulation of so much grime, wrinkled and evidently having gone without a proper cleaning for an extensive time. Xu gradually began to brake as they closed the gap, and finally came to a complete stop before the apprehensive crowd. Squall threw open the passenger-side door and followed her out onto the ruined roadway, just as the motorcade to their rear slowed to a halt and put their respective vehicles in park.

"Commandant Xu Adrastia of SeeD, at your service," she loudly introduced herself to the crowd, offering up the familiar salute. "We're terribly sorry about how long it's taken for us to make our way up here, but rest assured, we're ready and willing to assist in whatever way we can."

The restless murmuring among the gathered Trabia cadets swelled in volume, seemingly comprised of equal parts relief and unease. Appearing to take her at her word, most began the process of holstering, sheathing, or otherwise stowing away their weapons. As Squall momentarily craned his neck back over his shoulder to see his fellow SeeDs and cadets emerge from their transports to join the gathering, the robed man opposite them predictably stepped forward to meet Xu.

"Headmaster Dodonna," he cordially introduced himself with a handshake. "It's quite alright. I understand Balamb Garden must have had its own share of struggles over this last month. Please, forgive us for the less than warm welcome just now. When we first saw you coming this way in the distance, we thought… well, we'd gotten word in about the sorceress' takeover of Galbadia Garden, and how it's been somehow mobilized. I could hardly believe it when I first heard it, but to actually see such a thing firstha-"

"Ami!"

Squall spun on his heel in the direction of the cry. Selphie raced forward across the cragged roadway, paying little heed whatsoever to her footing. She stumbled several times, yet largely managed to maintain her speed all the while. A second girl from the Trabia side yelped her own name in return, and likewise sprinted forward to meet her friend. The two collided in the middle just several feet from Squall's side, and wrapped each other in a tight embrace. Under usual circumstances he would have found himself wincing in disgust at the girl's lack of professionalism in such a situation. As the two remained locked in their hug however, he understood it was only a natural reaction. This was her home, and to see a close friend safe after such a horrifying ordeal would surely carry the same emotional resonance for anyone. It was the same for him when he had discovered the missile base infiltration team had indeed survived.

 _You're sure as hell never going to see me give any hugs, though…_

"Perhaps it would be best if we discussed these matters somewhere more private," Xu suggested aloud. "I'm sure all of the transfer students would appreciate some time for catching up. Wouldn't you say so, Leonhart?"

Squall's focus shot back around to the commandant and Trabia's headmaster. He solemnly nodded in agreement, and waited patiently as the two promptly gave their respective factions leave to mingle and provide assistance where needed. Both parties began to disperse and trail off in all directions. Some gathered around the parked vehicles to chat, others started inward through the arched entrance to the ruined campus. Dodonna beckoned Xu and Squall to follow his lead onward, which the two were quick to oblige. Although he had assumed the commandant's mention of moving their discussion elsewhere would have implied a return to Balamb Garden, where the two headmasters would be at leisure to speak with one another, his curiosity as to the state of the premises had been piqued all the same.

"I assume the casualty figures must have been catastrophic," Xu raised the all-important question as they passed on through and started ahead toward a small ruined courtyard.

"It could have been far worse," the headmaster spoke with a dour look on his face. "Some of our scouts stationed out west on the Hawkind Plains spotted the missiles en route here, and sent us a transmission as quickly as they could. We ordered an evacuation as soon as we got the word, but… well, it just wasn't enough time. We managed to get maybe a little less than half of the student body clear of the blast radius."

Casting his gaze all around as he listened, Squall took in the ghastly state of the ruined Trabia Garden. Legions of small tents had been erected all across the expanse of scorched earth, trailing onward to the demolished fountain set before the collapsed entrance to the academy. Untold numbers of students bearing both Trabia and Balamb uniforms ducked between them, carefully maneuvering their legs over all manner of debris scattered and embedded into the ground. A series of far larger tents had been erected on the far end of the camp, which he assumed to be the kitchen and mess hall based on the number of people presently entering and exiting. He imagined the current lay of the land to be of a similar persuasion to what Collin had told him of his days spent on the Balamb waterfront, albeit on a far wider scale, and in the midst of conditions far less hospitable.

"The government in Trabia has offered us all the support they can give," Dodonna continued. "After the dust finally settled, we gathered up all the wounded to the best of our ability, and had as many as we could shuttled off to the hospital in the city. We moved the rest to what's left of the gymnasium; it was just about the only building on the premises with much of roof still intact. The number of deaths since then far outweighs the amount who have recovered. Rather than working to rebuild our home, the healthy students have been spending most of their days digging fresh graves to add to our ever growing cemetery."

"We'll take aboard as many wounded as we can and set them up in our infirmary," Xu promised him. "As for the rest of your student body, I'll have to speak with Headmaster Cid to determine just how many we can reasonably bring with us. It's highly unlikely we'd be able to comfortably house everyone here."

"I wouldn't dream of imposing on you to such an absurd degree," he clarified for them. "In fact, my only request for the moment is that you stay here to assist us in the coming battle."

"Battle?" Squall repeated, stopping in his tracks.

"Indeed," Dodonna sighed heavily. "It has become clear that the sorceress will not stop until she has conquered every last refuge of free civilization to exist. Dollet has fallen, and it seems she has now turned her eye to the north. My scout regiments to the west have been keeping me informed of the army's current movement. Galbadia Garden was last sighted moving due north on the continent, headed toward Shumi Village. Once they have finished there, Trabia will surely be next. It may only be a matter of days, perhaps a week. We stand as the last line of defense, but with our numbers so vastly decimated, there's simply no way we can hope to fend them off on our own.

"Then it falls to us," Squall declared on the spot. "If we combine our forces, there may be a chance that we can halt their advance. It's a long-shot, but it might be our only shot. If we fail, there won't be another army with the manpower or training to stand in their way, especially against the magic of the sorceress. We need to make sure it ends right here."

He looked to the Trabia Garden headmaster for approval, finding his eyes had widened in surprise at the emboldened assertion. It was only then he that realized just how brashly he had spoken aloud his thoughts, and how he had likely even undermined the commandant's authority in the process. He awkwardly turned his head to Xu at his side, and hastily stammered to correct his lapse in judgment.

"T-That is… if the _commandant_ deems such action necessary."

"You just about took the words right out of my mouth," she smirked to him with satisfaction, before turning back to Dodonna. "Apologies, sir. This is my protege, the next in line for the rank of commandant. And it sounds like he's antsy to up and take over already."

Squall cast his eyes downward in embarrassment, unable to believe just how frequently he had been placing his foot in his mouth as of late.

"Well, he's certainly got the right spirit," the headmaster continued with the teasing. "So, I take it that means you'll help us?"

"All decisions of this magnitude need to be cleared with Headmaster Cid first," Xu explained. "But I'm going to just come right out and say, consider it done. First things first, let's start by getting all the wounded we can aboard the Garden. We'll then begin formulating our battle plan, putting weapons into the hands of any Trabia students without them, and setting up a perimeter."

"Excellent!" Dodonna clapped his hands together. "I'll go tell the attendants in the gymnasium to get a move on it. If you could send some of your vehicles around to the side entrance to assist, we can get started right away. Thank you so very much."

The headmaster took his leave with a gracious bow, turning and starting across the ruined courtyard in the direction of a large derelict building in the distance. Squall turned back to Xu once again, feeling obliged to follow up on apologizing for his previous show of disregard.

"Sorry about that," he guiltily muttered. "I didn't mean to step on your toes like that."

"Tact is the last thing to be hung up on in a situation like this," she told him bluntly. "Decisiveness is what we need right now. You were right when you said there's no other army that can stand a chance, especially now that they've got their very own regiment of GF users. This is going to be the fight of our lives, the one we've been training all this time for, even if we didn't know it. SeeD's last stand against the sorceress."

Squall listened in silence, only then fully understanding the true severity of the matter. Should they succeed in fending off the Galbadian army's advance and bring Edea's reign of terror to an end, they would in fact fulfill the very aspiration the organization had been founded so long ago to carry out. History would remember their collective bravery for centuries to come, if not longer. Should they fail however, the sorceress' conquest would continue unabated, spreading across the globe until before long Ellone would have nowhere left to run to. Squall still had no clue as to what Edea sought to achieve by exploiting her mysterious gift, but knew he could not allow it to come to pass.

"We all need to be sure we're mentally prepared to face this head on," Xu continued. "Without any reservations or regrets. It's a leader's responsibility to make sure their subordinates remain focused and ready for anything in times of great stress. So, 'Commandant' Leonhart… do you know anyone in your immediate circle who might need that kind of support right now?"

Squall knew exactly what she was alluding to before she had even popped the question.

"Permission to take my leave, Commandant?" he saluted.

"Granted. Make me proud."


	38. Chapter 16 - Where the Threads Entwine

16

 **CHAPTER 16 – WHERE THE THREADS ENTWINE**

The sprawling makeshift graveyard stretched across the academy grounds, appearing equally as dilapidated as the ruined shell of Trabia Garden. Debris and shrapnel of all shapes and sizes littered the scorched earth, continually impeding Squall's progress forward as he maneuvered himself between each of the freshly dug plots. What accounted for headstones were in actuality jagged chunks of concrete and metal scavenged from the devastation. The means of identification varied for each, from a frayed cadet jacket and dog tags draped over top, to a weapon propped up at its side or laid upon the soil immediately before. None had been engraved with the names and dates of their respective deceased.

Far enough removed from the bustle of the student refugee camp as it was, an eerie air permeated the silent cemetery. The overcast sky above shrouded the wide expanse with a gloomy, drab ambiance. Nary a soul stood elsewhere on the premises save for the gathering of five familiar Balamb operatives further ahead of Squall's position. One among them had slumped to their knees in what looked to be despair, the curled brown locks on either side of her hairdo the only element about her reflecting any semblance of her usual liveliness. Squall had known straight away that he would find her there, grieving amid the hastily interred remains of those she had left behind to pursue her future as a SeeD. There was a significant possibility that she had personally known some of those who had lost their lives. It was an emotional torment unlike any other Squall could imagine; the entirety of his academic life spent in self-imposed isolation had left him without any precedent to empathize with her on such a matter.

The other four all turned their heads in tandem at his approach. Realizing that with his arrival the group of six had at last come to be gathered in one place, he promptly turned his gaze to Irvine and shot him a stern look. The lean sharpshooter in his freshly ironed Balamb cadet uniform casually brought his hand up, wordlessly acknowledging that the explanation he had promised was well overdue. Although the present locale and circumstances were less than ideal, Squall was equally anxious and determined to finally learn whatever information it was that Irvine had been keeping from them for all this time. That it supposedly related to Ellone in some capacity was what especially piqued his interest.

The previous night's vision, the first following an entire month without a single one having been foisted upon him, had in some respects been a welcome surprise. If nothing else, it served to reassure him that Edea had yet to track her down. More so than any of the five before it however, its contents had inexplicably struck a chord with him. Laguna's meeting with the reclusive young woman had brought with it a strange familiarity, a niggling feeling of sentimentality which he simply could not place no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps it was the former soldier's own emotions he had been feeling, just as he had been able to read his thoughts each time Ellone had thrust him into the past. And yet, even after he had awoken from the dream and proceeded to go about his morning routine, the mysterious longing had remained burning in his heart.

 _That woman… she looked kind of like…_

"What's the word from the commandant?" Quistis addressed him as he strode up.

Squall abruptly stalled in his thoughts, realizing he had unwittingly allowed himself to be caught up in his daydreaming. He quickly reoriented his focus to his comrades and began to explain the situation.

"Arrangements have been made to bring aboard all the wounded we can. The enemy forces have been sighted due northwest on the continent, and are expected to start moving this way any day now. We're to make our stand here, Balamb and Trabia together."

"So, this is it, huh?" Zell muttered, both hands in his pockets as he absentmindedly kicked away at the dirt beneath his feet. "The big one. The fight we've been waiting our whole lives for."

"Looks that way," Squall confirmed, bringing his left hand to rest atop the nearest headstone. "The future of the world falls to us. We need to be sure we're all ready to face this battle head on, without any regrets. So… if there's anything that anyone here needs to get off their chest, now's the time to do it."

Although he had come onto the scene at the commandant's behest to ensure Selphie was of the appropriate mental and emotional stability, the leading statement was directed as much to Irvine as it was to her. It was the downtrodden girl who responded first, however. As she slowly rose from her knees and turned her face toward Squall's, he took note of the twin streaks still yet to have fully dried running down either cheek from her puffy red eyes.

"Count me in," she affirmed with a sniffle, bringing her arm up to wipe away the lingering evidence of her tears. "I've made my peace. It's time to finish this. I promise… I'm gonna pay them back _tenfold_ for what they've done here."

"Damn straight," Zell agreed, swiftly pulling his hands out of his pockets and bringing his right fist to meet his left palm. "I don't care what it takes, I'm not stopping until I get my hands on Seifer. And when I do, I'm gonna give him _every bit_ of what he's got coming to him."

By the sheer unbridled ferocity seeping into his voice all the while, Squall could tell he truly meant it. His only objection to the blonde's intentions came from his own desire to put Seifer in his place, personally.

"Um," Rinoa spoke up, her eyes lowered to the ground with uncertainty. "I know we might be in a little too deep to be saying this now, but… do we _really_ have to fight?"

"Huh?" Zell abruptly whipped his head around to her. "Where the heck's _this_ coming from, all of a sudden?"

"I just mean, isn't there some other way?" she expounded. "So that there doesn't have to be any more bloodshed like this?"

"I wish there was, Rinoa," Quistis sympathized with her plea. "But I just don't see how that's possible at this stage. You said it yourself, we're in too deep to back out now."

"But that doesn't mean we shouldn't at least _try_ to figure something out, does it?" Rinoa insisted. "What do you think, Squall?"

All eyes suddenly landed on him, seemingly awaiting whatever kernel of wisdom he had to contribute. Squall averted his own, knowing he could offer nothing that Quistis hadn't already. Moreover, that such a suggestion had come from Rinoa of all people, who had tirelessly railed against Galbadia with such passion and determination in Timber only a month prior, was a confusing notion for him to wrap his head around.

 _Why all this, all of a sudden? What does she expect from me?_

"Squall, you have to voice your feelings, or else we won't understand," she broke him from his stern contemplation.

"You… were part of a resistance movement," he reminded her. "The only one in all of Timber that was still active, right? You and your comrades stuck to your guns and kept up the fight, even when every other faction in the city had gone underground, because it was something you believed was worth fighting for. You went out of your way to hire SeeD in the hope that you could make that dream a reality. You risked your life that night to try to help us assassinate the sorceress. You came to me for GF training, because you said you were sick of being stuck on the sidelines. And now you're saying all this? What's happened to you?"

Evidently unprepared for such a rebuttal, the girl meekly turned away from the ensuing verbal exchange, and stared out across the field of gravestones.

"I guess… I'm just scared," she admitted with a quiver in her voice. "These past… five, going on six weeks I've known you all, you've become like a family to me. I really mean that, and I don't know what I'd do if something horrible happened to any of you. I've only made it this far because I believed that as long as I stuck with you guys, things would turn out alright. But now… standing right here, in the middle of all this… all these poor students who had their lives snuffed out for no reason…"

She trailed off just before coming to the heart of her contention, though Squall could easily deduce what it was. Every one of those who now lay in the earth beneath their feet had been friends or family to some person or another, one of whom doubtless stood among them even now. He put one foot forward to start over to her, when Irvine swooped in ahead of him and placed a single hand on her shoulder.

"I understand, Rinoa," he sought to comfort her, his tone genuine and his enunciation once again having shed its usual slack. "It's scary to think that someone you love might never come back, and that you'll be left all alone. Living with that constant sadness and longing weighing you down everyday is bound to screw anyone up in the head, especially if it's ever happened to you at a young age."

"My… my mom," she interrupted him, her voice little more than a whimper. "When I was five, she…"

"Your dad told us when we met him back in the city," Irvine admitted to her. "I'm sure it's much worse when you know for sure that person's gone forever. I won't pretend to know just how painful that must have been. What I do know is that no matter who we've lost, or how, we all come up with our own ways to cope with that kind of horrible reality."

He removed his hand from her shoulder and began to amble about the gathered five, no longer appearing to be speaking to Rinoa in particular.

"Some of us turn bitter and become prone to lashing out at any kind of authority we're faced with, because we feel like we've been personally wronged by the world. Others try to hide themselves away, seeking refuge in isolation because they're afraid of being hurt so badly again."

The marksman's blue eyes met Squall's at that moment, his firm stare appearing to reach the very depths of his soul. It became immediately apparent that there was more weighing on his mind than offering Rinoa a mere pep-talk.

"As for me," he continued, whirling his gaze all around to each of the others in turn. "I came up with my own way to deal with it, too, by the time I got enrolled in Galbadia Garden. I started putting on a front, making myself out to be something I knew deep down I wasn't: the slick show-off, the kid who thought he was too-cool-for-school, who everyone wanted to be around because they all knew he could back up whatever he dished out. And it worked. The ladies loved me, the rest of the sharpshooter division respected me, and even the guys around campus who couldn't stand my guts, I could tell they were all just jealous of how well I had it made. I played the part so convincingly, for so long, that after a while even I started believing it."

"We get it, you thought you were hot shit," Zell irately grumbled. "Is there a point coming any time soon?"

"Yeah, and it's this: even with all that fame and notoriety around campus, I was still a lonely, miserable wreck underneath it all, because I knew I was living a lie. I thought I could fill the hole in my heart just by surrounding myself with as many people as possible, only to eventually realize it doesn't work that way. All the fawning girls, my fellow sharpshooters, the jealous pricks who'd flash me dirty looks in the halls, none of them knew the 'real' me. They all only saw me for the facade I'd worked so hard to build up. Having 'friends' doesn't mean a whole lot when it's all predicated on a lie, am I right?"

Squall listened on to Irvine's startling confession in breathless silence, scarcely able to believe just how uncharacteristically vulnerable he had made himself to them. This was indeed not at all reflective of the laid-back, easygoing sharpshooter he had met at Galbadia Garden, and yet the sincerity in his delivery convinced him that it was not an act.

"But you know… sometimes miracles _do_ happen, after all," he smiled triumphantly. "Sometimes, against all odds, things _do_ work out in the end, and life hands you another chance at happiness right out of the blue. I got mine handed to me that day I strolled on into Headmaster Martine's office, to see you all standing there. It was a sign that I had to learn to put aside the fake me, and finally come to terms with myself after so long. But, it sure wasn't easy for me to just open up to you guys right off the bat. Especially considering _you four_ also seemed a bit screwy in the head."

"What the hell's _that_ supposed to mean!?" Zell blew his top at the jest; with Irvine's back presently turned to Rinoa, his sweeping finger indicated that those he meant to specify were the four SeeDs.

"How so?" Quistis furrowed her brow in confusion. "And what was so special about meeting us? I'm not following your train of thought here."

"That's because I haven't started explaining it yet," Irvine clarified with a cheeky grin as he stepped out of the circle and spun back around to address them as a collective. "Story time, everyone! And you'd all better listen good, because this has been a _long_ time coming."

 _It had better be worth all the build-up to get to it…_

"Once upon a time… I must have been about four, or so… I was in a little orphanage with a bunch of other kids. It _was_ just a few years after the Sorceress War ended, so I guess there was no helping it. I never knew my parents, or where I'd been brought up before being taken in there. Anyway, that's where I lived for at least a couple years. And out of all the kids there, one was very special to me. A girl, cute as a button and bursting with energy. It always made me so happy just being around her…"

* * *

The wooden door creaked open with a forceful push from Irvine. He re-flattened his feet from the tip-toe position he had taken to reach the knob, and ducked his head in to survey the kitchen. He craned his neck left and right, squinting his eyes through the dimness offset only by the daylight streaming through the window over the sink. Satisfied that Matron was nowhere in sight, he stepped on through and shut the door, putting the cackling of the other children in the common area across the hall behind him.

As soon as it was closed, he bolted straight for the nearest of many cupboards running along the underside of the counter. He swung the door open, saw nothing but a neatly organized assortment of pots and pans, and closed it just as quickly. He continued unabated along the row, only once casting a gaze over his shoulder back toward the door. The kitchen was strictly off-limits to any of the children without supervision, and Irvine was well aware of the serious trouble he would be in should he be caught there. The potential for punishment was not enough to keep him away however, nor did he expect it was for the girl he was seeking. The instant he pulled open the fifth and final cupboard, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Hyaa!"

Irvine's eyes widened in shock as she shot out from hiding and tackled him to the hard stone floor. He groaned as they began to tumble, coming to a rest once she had pinned him down by both wrists.

"You're fast!" she smiled to him, her green eyes beaming with excitement.

"'Cause you're too easy to find, Sefie," he told her, fighting to wriggle free of her grasp. At his insistence, she finally let go and lifted herself aside.

"Your turn, Irvy!" she beamed innocently. "And no picking the same spot, like last time! You promised!"

"Okay," he moaned, disappointed to learn that she had anticipated his next course of action. "And _you_ hafta promise you won't hide up in the lighthouse anymore. You know I'm scared of heights!"

" _Fine_ ," she pouted, clearly not having planned on sticking to her word either. "But next time I'm picking somewhere _really_ hard! So hard you'll probly quit!

"No way," he smiled, taking her dainty hand in his. "I don't care where you hide, I'm never _ever_ gonna stop looking for you."

That was the one promise he intended to keep.

* * *

"That… that orphanage," Selphie stammered, her face pale and wide-eyed. "It was a big stone building… by the ocean… with a lighthouse…"

"And next to a huge field of flowers," Quistis abruptly cut in, her own expression appearing no less incredulous than the girl's. "Right?"

"Bingo," Irvine smiled back. "It's about time someone else here remembered. I was a little worried the memories would be gone completely by this point."

Squall's pursed lips parted at the revelation, leaving his mouth to hang agape in astonishment. That he had personally borne witness to such a place through Laguna's eyes, exactly as it was being described, was shocking enough. That Irvine spoke of it now, only for it to be swiftly corroborated by not just one, but two of the others, was flabbergasting.

 _What the hell's going on here!?_

"Hold up!" Zell jumped in, obviously every bit as lost. "What're you three talkin' about? Are you saying you all _knew_ each other as kids?"

"I… I don't remember much," Quistis muttered, closing her eyes in concentration. "But I _do_ vaguely recall living in a house like that, with many other kids. It was on a small island, somewhere… with a huge flower garden out front, and a lighthouse in the back, down on the beach. And I remember… fireworks! That's right, we all snuck out and set off fireworks one night, didn't we?"

* * *

Quistis' heart leapt into her throat the moment she saw the sparks fly from the fuse. Irvine jerked away from the ignited firecracker, dropping the lit match onto the sandy beach below, and turned tail to run for cover. The flickering positively popped out from the long shadow cast by the darkened lighthouse, hissing all the while as it traced its way along the wick. Finally, the rocket zoomed upward at a tremendous speed, soaring high above all else on the shoreline. She watched breathlessly as it climbed toward its apex among the stars, and swiftly burst with a raucous bang moments later. The darkened beachside was instantly illuminated by the emerald green light, prompting a chorus of excited cries to spring up.

"Awesome!" Irvine yelped in amazement from nearby.

"C'mon, c'mon!" Selphie squealed impatiently. "Let's do it again!"

Another of the boys had already stuck the next rocket into the sand before she had even gotten the words out of her mouth. With a stroke of the match against the box held in his hand, the small flame sprang to life, and he carefully lowered it to the fuse.

"I'm telling!" a shriek suddenly came from up on the overlooking hill. Quistis turned away from the sparkling firework to peer back up along the sandy trail leading to the house. A small blonde-haired boy came tearing down the decline at top speed, waving his arms frantically in the hopes they would take notice.

"You're all gonna get in _so_ much trouble!" he followed up. She opened her mouth to respond, when the rocket's sudden lift-off stole her attention away once again. The second firework followed a nearly identical trajectory to the first, detonating high in the sky with a burst of crimson red. Despite the sheer intensity of the explosion, the meddling tattle-tale did not halt in his hurried race to the bottom.

"You stole those!" he chastised them as he slowed to meet the group. "Matron's gonna be _so_ mad!"

"Crybaby Zell!" the boy who had lit the second firework mocked him with a sneer. "Go back to bed!"

"Shut up, Seifer!" he mewled back, appearing to be on the verge of tears just as he was accused.

Quistis returned her eyes to the trail, visually tracing its length back up to the orphanage. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw a shadowy figure in a familiar dark dress come frantically running down to the shore. True to Zell's warning, they would all be in for a more serious punishment than any of them had ever been served before. As Matron's own frenzied wailing reached her ears, she gazed up again to the peak of the hill, and only then noticed the lone silent onlooker staring down at them.

The boy remained fixed to the spot, emotionlessly observing what was sure to become a heated scolding very shortly. He had been invited to join them in the night's festivities, but had apparently wanted no involvement with any of them. Such had been the norm for him as of late; any trace of the happiness she had seen before had left along with Sis just a couple of months ago. Quistis truly felt sorry for him, and even as Matron's shrill chiding drowned out all else around her, she vowed she would do whatever she could to one day bring that smile out of him again.

* * *

"That's _ridiculous_!" Zell heatedly protested in the face of Quistis' recollection. "I was never in an orphanage! I've got my ma in Balamb, remember?"

"Obviously, you were adopted," Irvine calmly shot down his alibi. "You were there, same as the rest of us. She remembers it, and so did I, from the moment I walked into Martine's office that day."

"This is bullshit!" he roared in outrage, utterly shattering the solemnity of the graveyard around them. "I was _not_ adopted! And you expect me to believe Seifer was there, too!? That's moronic! You think I wouldn't remember growing up in the same house as _him_!?"

"It's true," Squall finally spoke up. For as ludicrous as the entire account of events ought to have been, there was an undeniable, poignant resonance underneath which he could not ignore any longer. Even without Quistis and Selphie's testimonies to further support Irvine's story, the lingering traces still ingrained in his own memory, foggy and disjointed as they were, convinced him that it was all indeed as he said.

"What are you saying!?" Zell gaped at him in amazement. "Don't tell me _you_ actually buy this crap!"

"It's not a question of whether or not I believe it," he explained, crossing his arms as he fixed his stare to the ground below in contemplation. "There are too many things… little things that have been stuck in the back of my mind for so long… and in my dreams. It all sounds impossible, but… I remember it, too. We were together there. All of us, except Rinoa."

"You mean…?" the girl hesitantly egged him on to finish his thoughts.

"Yeah… I was there, too."

"You bet," Irvine confirmed for him. "The gloomy little outsider, who never wanted anything to do with the rest of us. Always waiting for 'Sis' to come back, right?"

The sharpshooter's words stabbed through Squall's heart with an intensity to rival the icicle he had taken through his shoulder so many weeks ago. His mouth hung open in perpetual stupefaction, his mind having ground to a complete halt in an instant. It was then, in that long, agonizing moment of sudden emotional shock, that the memories long buried beneath thirteen years of pent up sadness came roaring back all at once.

* * *

The boy carefully peeked his head around the side of the open doorframe to look in on the orphanage sleeping quarters. Despite still being the middle of the day, a group of six children each stood or sat in a roughly formed circle off to one side of the spacious room. They were the eldest orphans currently living in the house, all several years older than him. He knew virtually nothing about the five boys among them; the age gap had established an unspoken policy that their clique and his not intermingle with one another outside of meals and curfew. The girl seated on the edge of her bed was the sole exception to the rule.

Besides Matron herself, she was the effective mediator between both groups of children, and the boy's dearest confidant. Her short brown hair perfectly matched her beautiful eyes, offset by the blue button-up dress she wore. Her angelic face, usually so peaceful and loving, appeared strangely concerned from a distance. Eager to learn what was troubling her, he lowered himself to his hands and knees, and slowly began to crawl through the door. He hid himself beside the nearest bed, ducked under, and started making his way along as quietly as he could.

"Don't worry so much!" one of the boys spoke out. "It's gonna be one big adventure for all of us!"

"Let's just hope none of us get seasick easily," another chimed in.

"I don't know," a third nervously muttered. "I've never been on a boat before."

"So, you were _born_ on this island?"

"You know what I mean!"

The exchange continued as the boy slunk his way underneath the row of beds. His little heart anxiously pounded in his chest all the while, feeling as though it might be on the verge of bursting.

"I just don't understand," Sis finally piped up. "Why do we all have to go?"

"Don't tell me you actually wanna _stay_?" the first boy asked. "We've been stuck here our whole lives. This is our chance to finally get out and see the world."

"Yeah, it's gonna be great! So, let's make sure we're all packed up for tonight, and… hey!"

A set of hurried footsteps stomped across the floorboards, prompting the boy to freeze in his tracks. Suddenly, a pair of hands firmly clasped themselves around his ankles and forcefully yanked him out from under the bed. He screamed in protest as he was hoisted up and held upside down by the elder boy. His shirt followed gravity's course and fell over top of his head, blocking all else from sight as he was carried away.

"Aw, shut up, ya little runt!" his captor berated him amid the chuckles from his friends.

At last he was dropped to the floor with a hard thud. He hastily pulled his shirt back down over his midriff and sat up, to find he had been deposited outside the doorway to the sleeping quarters. The boy who had picked him up stood imposingly in the frame, looking down derisively on him. Through the gap in his legs, his eyes briefly met with Sis', her face appearing wrought with even more discomfort than it had been before.

"Mind your own business, brat!" the belligerent youth scolded him, reaching out with one hand for the door. It slammed shut in front of his face the next moment, leaving him sitting alone in the hallway with tears beginning to brim in his eyes.

* * *

 _That was the last day I ever saw her…_

"Hold on… I remember her!" Selphie abruptly jumped back into the conversation. "She was a bit older than all of us, wasn't she?"

"That's right," Quistis pensively hummed. "We all used to call her 'Sis', because she was like our big sister around the orphanage. That, and I remember her real name was a bit hard for a lot of us to say properly. What was it, again? Something like… 'Ellen'? Or 'Eileen', maybe?"

"Close, but not quite," Irvine smiled knowingly. "Anyone else want to give it a shot?"

Although the question had been openly extended to everyone in the group, his focused stare betrayed exactly who was the true intended recipient. If nothing else, he was right to expect it of Squall, who ought to have known her name better than anyone among them. He did, and as he sucked in a breath to prepare himself, he felt a palpable sense of shame wash over him.

"Ellone," he finally exhaled.

"We have a winner," Irvine announced without much enthusiasm.

"You mean that girl the sorceress is looking for!?" Zell blurted out in disbelief.

"Ellone," Quistis muttered to no one in particular. "That name… wasn't that the girl those SeeDs on the boat came to evacuate from the Garden?"

"Yeah, I think it was!" Rinoa chipped in with a noticeable eagerness; given that she was the odd one out among them with regard to the conversation's topic, she was clearly happy to get a word in however she could. "I remember Cid's call over the intercom for her. I wonder why she's so important in all this, though. Why would the sorceress be after _her_?"

"I… don't know," Squall lied; with so many new revelations already on hand to begin dissecting, he did not wish to add another to the ever growing pile.

"Huh?" Zell raised an eyebrow in his direction. "I thought you said it was because she had some-"

"It doesn't matter!" he harshly cut him off, turning his focus back to Irvine. "All I want to know right now is why _you_ remember all of this so well, but none of us did. I've known Seifer and Quistis since we were all in primary education at the Garden, and none of this has ever crossed my mind until now."

"That is strange," Quistis agreed with him as she began to pace about the nearby headstones. "I know I got sent off to Balamb when I was ten… things weren't working out so well between me and my new family, if I recall. And I do remember you and Seifer caught my interest early on. He was the kid who always needed to be the center of attention, and you'd just keep to yourself, ignoring him and everyone else around. So, he'd always try to pick fights with you, and after a while you'd snap and try to fight back. And _I_ was the one who usually had to break you two up, like I was your older sister, or…"

She paused in mid-speech, simultaneously stopping in her tracks. She remained still for several seconds, silently mulling over her thoughts, and then turned back to face Squall.

"You know… looking back, I never really understood why it was so important to me. But… maybe it's because I was trying to take Sis… to take Ellone's place. I definitely didn't remember anything about us growing up together until just now, but… I think… back then, I must have. I can't believe it's taken me so long to realize it…"

"Uh… sorry to interrupt," Zell cut in to her emotional monologue. "But, that still doesn't really answer the question. Let's just say that all this about us living together at an orphanage is true. I'm not sayin' I suddenly remember it or anything, but for the sake of the argument… how is it that all of us except _this guy_ just up and forgot?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out for the better part of a month," Irvine explained. "I've thought it over, long and hard, and I might just have the answer, if you're interested in hearing it."

"We are," Squall spoke in the blonde's place. Baffling as it all was to believe, he was now positive that everything the sharpshooter had spoken thus far was indeed the truth. He abruptly turned to him, eyes steely and focused, and after a moment's hesitation, began.

"That night in the city… when she used her power to brainwash the rest of the crowd, you used the energy from your Guardian Force to ward off her magic, so that we didn't end up like them, right?"

"Yeah," Squall affirmed, not understanding the correlation. "It was the only thing I could think of. I wasn't even sure it would work."

"I remember when you grabbed me by the neck and started channeling the energy in… there was this sudden rush that went through my head, like it was seeping directly into mind. Is that how it usually feels whenever you use one of those things?"

"More or less."

"Well, call me crazy, but I feel like pumping that kind of energy into your brain day in and day out might not be the healthiest thing. Who knows what kind of damage it could do up there after a long enough time?"

"You're telling me it's the GF spheres that have been messing with our memories!?" Zell sputtered in amazement.

"That _can't_ be right," Quistis assured herself, her eyes now trained to her own silver sphere in her hand. "There's _no_ _way_ Headmaster Cid would allow students to be trained with these if they were capable of causing a side-effect like that."

"But it wasn't him who gave the go-ahead on GFs in the first place, remember?" Squall reminded her.

The headmaster himself had already told them that it had been through Norg that Balamb Garden had come to secure exclusive use of the technology from Odine Industries. It would have been easy enough for the corrupt Garden Master and his administration to have kept any potential side-effects hidden away from him. Furthermore, provided that Irvine's hypothesis was indeed on the mark, the accusations that Seifer had repeatedly levied against Cid for having 'brainwashed' the student body suddenly made far more sense.

"Think about it," Irvine calmly addressed them all. "I've never used one of those before in my life, and my memory's perfectly fine."

"And Seifer's barely ever used his," Squall acknowledged. "I'm positive that he remembers everything, too."

"He does," Quistis spoke softly, her spirits evidently deflated once more as she came to accept the notion. "When we had our standoff at the station in Timber… when he told me I was trying too hard to be like some kind of caretaker to him and you… an 'imitation', he said… it all makes sense now. He must have understood that I was still trying to be like Ellone to you both, even when _I'd_ completely forgotten."

"This is my first time hearing about this," Irvine admitted to her with a sympathetic gaze. "But… I don't think that's _quite_ what he was implying."

"I still don't buy it," Zell interrupted the conversation again. "I think we're forgetting someone here. What about you, Selphie? You just transferred to Balamb this year, right? You'd never used a GF before, so how come-"

"Hold it right there, Zell," Squall hushed him before he could finish. "There's something else we need to clear the air about, right now."

The petite transfer student in question, who had remained all but completely silent throughout most of the proceedings, had jerked upright at having been addressed by name. As Squall took several steps closer, her eyes began to widen, her expression reflecting only nervousness and dread. He could tell that she already knew exactly what he was about to ask.

"Selphie," he sternly spoke. "I want the truth. How long have you really had that GF for? Where did you get it? And why does it have the Galbadian crest on it?"

Her eyes frantically darted every which way between the others around her, all of whom were almost certainly just as shocked at Squall's words. His refusal to take his attention off her for even an instant meant that did not know for certain. A long pause ensued, the girl appearing to mentally weigh each and every option available to her, until at last she brought her green eyes back around to him with an embarrassed look.

"So… you _did_ see," she bashfully grimaced. "That day in the prison, right? I had a feeling you did, but since you never said anything-"

"Just tell me," he impatiently reiterated; he had waited too long for an answer to allow her to begin rambling as she was so often prone to.

In an act of deference, Selphie rummaged through the pocket on the right fore of her uniform and withdrew the sphere, holding it out for all to see. Its bronze casing was just as Squall remembered it, soon giving way to the black Galbadian insignia as she rotated it around with her fingers to expose the mark.

"The _fuck_!?" Zell roared in awe as he drew close enough to see it. The rest of the group all promptly fell into formation around her, each appearing no less stunned by what they were seeing.

"Sorry for keeping it a secret," she admitted to them. "I was afraid I'd be kicked out of the Garden if anyone found out about it. But I guess now that it's out in the open, I'll just have to come clean. I've actually had this sphere for about five years now. It was a gift from… my dad."

"Your dad?" Rinoa repeated, obviously confused.

"Well, _adoptive_ dad, I guess. It's strange… somewhere along the line I must have forgot about that, too. I don't remember a whole lot before he and my mom decided to move to Trabia with me. I think I was eleven, then. We had it pretty well off financially, nothing extravagant, but it was nice and cozy with just the three of us for a little while. And then they decided to enroll me here in the Garden. This might surprise you guys, but I actually really resented having to live here at first. It just felt like they dumped me here because they didn't want me around the house anymore. And, I guess… maybe because it also reminded me of being back at the orphanage. I know now that they really just wanted the best for me, but… it was still really hard."

"Are we going to hear about the GF soon?" Squall hinted to her.

"I'm getting there!" she heatedly assured him. "So, anyway, I still kept in touch with my parents via letters, and got to go see them again for the summer, and my twelfth birthday. But then a little while after that… my mom came down with a really nasty illness. She was bedridden for weeks, and eventually passed away from it. It was probably the saddest time of my life up to that point. After the funeral, I decided I was going to shape up and do my best to make her proud. I straight-up told my dad I was going to start studying and training like I never had before, so I could one day transfer to Balamb and become a SeeD, and I meant it. And little by little, I started to warm to this place. It really did become a place I'm proud to call my home.

"Then, a few months later, my dad came here to visit me, which was a first. He told me he'd gotten back in touch with an old colleague of his from when we used to live in Galbadia, and that he was going on a trip to meet with him for a while. He said he couldn't tell me exactly where he was going or how long it would be for, but he promised that he'd keep writing to me for as long as he was away. I didn't think anything of it then, but… well, in hindsight I wish I would have kept pestering him to tell me. Another month goes by, and I get a package delivered to my dorm room, a big box with no return address. I open it up, and it's filled with tons of seashells of all different shapes and sizes. One of them was a big conch shell with a hole bored into its side. I took a look and… well, this is what was in it, along with a note from my dad saying that he hoped it would help me get a head start on training to be a SeeD."

"You _can't_ be serious," Quistis looked the girl up and down skeptically.

Squall had no idea what to make of the incredible account. There was enough detail and genuine passion in Selphie's delivery for the story to sound convincing, and yet it was something so unprecedented and nonsensical that he had difficulty accepting it regardless.

"It sounds crazy, I know, but it's true!" Selphie insisted, pocketing the sphere once more. "I swear it. Do you _really_ think I've got any love for Galbadia after what they've done to my home!?"

"I believe it," Zell stepped up for her. "What I'm still trying to wrap my head around is how _Galbadia_ managed to make a GF!"

"You've never asked your dad about this?" Squall followed up, opting to play along for the sake of finding any holes in her story.

"I… never got the chance," Selphie quietly muttered, turning her eyes away from him. "He never came back. That package… was the last thing I've gotten from him in five years. Even now, I still have no idea whether he's alive or not… and…"

The very real tears which began to spill down her cheeks were enough to assure Squall that it was not an act. Momentarily caught off guard as to how he should proceed, he was completely unprepared to be forcefully pushed aside by Irvine. He regained his balance without difficulty as the sharpshooter wrapped Selphie in a tight hug. The girl's own arms encircled him the next moment, her head buried in his chest as she continued to sob.

"It's alright, Selphie," he consoled her. "We all believe you, and we're sorry for making you bring up something so painful. Right, everyone?"

Zell and Rinoa promptly offered their condolences as requested, followed by Quistis a moment later. Recognizing that for all his suspicion the girl had otherwise never shown anything close to a malicious streak, Squall gave his own.

"There, you see?" he assured her with a pat on the shoulder. "And besides… if I were a betting man, I'd put my money on your dad still being out there, somewhere, and that you'll meet him again, someday."

"What… what makes you think that?" Selphie sniffled as she slowly withdrew from his arms.

"It's just like I said before: sometimes miracles do happen. And I have a good feeling we've got fate on our side. It managed to bring all of _us_ back together, against all odds, right? So, what's one more?"

Squall stifled the urge to scoff at Irvine's optimism, reminding himself that Selphie's emotional well-being had been the reason he had sought her at the cemetery to begin with. Hollow though the reassurance was, it seemed enough to lift the girl's spirits, if only for the moment. Before he knew it, she had roped the sharpshooter into an embrace of her own making, burying her still tear-soaked face once again into his uniform.

"Geez, I feel like Matron all of a sudden," he joked as he put his arms back around her.

"Holy shit!" Zell suddenly exclaimed. "Now _there's_ a name I haven't heard in forever!"

"I thought you didn't remember being in an orphanage?" Quistis cheekily retorted.

"Well… the more we keep going on about it, the more it starts to come together," he sheepishly explained himself.

"What do you all remember about her?" Irvine asked as he and Selphie released from their second hug, and the girl began to wipe the last of the tears from her eyes.

"She was pretty much always dressed in black," Zell recalled.

"Yes," Quistis agreed. "Long dark hair, very kind and gentle… I really did admire her."

Squall recalled her just as well, and even moreso when considering the most recent vision Ellone had given him. Putting aside his familiarity with the girl, which in turn shed new light onto her selecting him for whatever she hoped to accomplish in the past, he recalled Matron's beautiful young features as he had seen them through Laguna's eyes. There had indeed been a perfectly valid reason for the pang of recognition he had felt.

"Anything else?" Irvine began fishing among them for a specific response. "A name, maybe? A face? Anyone you know that she might remind you of?"

"Let's see," Selphie took up the mental scavenger hunt along with them. "Gosh, it's been so long, I can barely even picture her face anymore."

"Sorry, can't remember her name or face that well," Zell gave up. "What're you getting at, anyway? What's so important about her-"

"No way…" Squall finally let out a hoarse exhale.

His eyes bulged as he proceeded to overlay the two mental images with one another. Her gentle green eyes were a stark contrast to the eerie yellow glare, nor were her perfectly smooth cheeks host to a horrifying network of pronounced veins. Absent those two key physical attributes however, as well as a healthy dose of violet eye-shadow and lip gloss, the two were practically one and the same. Indeed, he now understood that they in fact were.

" _Someone's_ figured it out," Irvine announced as he took notice of Squall's undoubtedly horror-stricken expression.

"That's impossible," he affirmed, more to convince himself than anyone else. "It _has_ to be one huge coincidence."

"It's not. Matron's name was Edea Kramer. There's no getting around it. Matron _is_ Sorceress Edea."

The ensuing silence was absolute. Not one of the six gathered together in the cemetery dared so much as breathe loudly. Some glanced back and forth between one another in wide-eyed astonishment, while others simply stared straight ahead into space, barely still tethered to reality as it was. Squall vacillated between both in equal measure, shaken to the very core by this one revelation to shame all others. The same woman who had raised him and his closest comrades as if they were her own children, and who would later go on to establish the very army he was now one step away from commanding, was the bloodthirsty tyrant they now fought against to protect the world's safety.

What little wonder it was that Irvine had been reduced to a sniveling wreck when charged with assassinating her, or that he had thought Squall a monster for his insistence to carry it out. It was likewise so much more obvious why Seifer had shown such unremitting loyalty to her, and just who it really was that he had accused Quistis of attempting to imitate. And yet, even as the answers to these questions became strikingly evident, so many more were raised. Most pressing of all however, was what could have possibly turned their once benign Matron so far astray?

"I… don't get it," Zell finally broke the silence. "I just don't get it. Why would she…?"

"You're wondering why our Matron would take over an entire country?" Irvine finished his query for him. "Or fire missiles at the Gardens and whatnot? Well, that's the one thing I _don't_ have an answer for. Your guess is as good as mine. At this point, we probably wouldn't be able to comprehend it even if we all talked about it for hours."

"You're probably right," Squall agreed. "And… I'm sorry about back in Deling City."

"Don't worry about it," the sharpshooter played it down. "We both know why you didn't remember now. What's done is done. Now's the time to start thinking about how we're going to face her when the army shows up here in a few days."

"Do you think… we should still keep using our GFs?" Quistis raised another important question. "Knowing what we do now?"

"Absolutely," Squall determined in a heartbeat. "We won't stand a chance against her power without them."

"It's the only way I know how to fight," Rinoa chimed in. "And yes, I _do_ intend to fight now."

"Maybe we should all keep our own diaries, just in case?" Selphie suggested. "That way we'll at least have everything written down."

"Yeah," Zell agreed, sounding more like himself again by the second. "But, you know what? So what if I forget my childhood all over again. What's important to me now is having the power to protect my ma in Balamb. She's cared for me longer than Matron, and there's no way I'm gonna let her down!"

"Sounds like it's settled, then," Irvine took the reins of the conversation again. "As for me… I'm just going to stay true to who I am, and what I've always stood for. Even if our opponent is someone we once loved, the actions she's taken are indefensible. She needs to be stopped, regardless of who she is. This is our chance to make sure it ends, right here."

He outstretched his arm into the center of the circle they had formed, and glanced between them all. Rinoa stepped forward first, placing her own hand atop his, followed by Zell a split second later. Selphie and Quistis piled on in quick succession, leaving Squall as the only remaining holdout. As one who had lived such a long life in isolation, the desire for camaraderie had forever eluded him. It was there, standing amid numerous acres of those who had gone to their own eternal solitude, that he at last recognized himself to be part of something greater, beyond the mere obligations expected of a SeeD. He placed his hand atop those of his one and only true family, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, felt a true sense of belonging.

"For Balamb," Irvine spoke. "For Trabia. For Ellone. And for the Matron we once knew. Let's win this fight. Together.


End file.
